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Hello and welcome back to Behind the Powder Podcast with Me Falls and Victoria. So we are continuing to read An English Madam, The Life and Work of Cynthia Payne by Paul Bailey. We are on to chapter 6, which is titled I Was Terribly Withdrawn. The old boy in the Bentley was not the only acquaintance Cynthia made while working in the Elmtree calf. Two of the restaurant's regular customers, Jeffrey, whom she calls Little Jeff, and Roger, who now acts as her unpaid chauffeur, became her close and constant friends. They're like brothers to me. Oh, I had an affair with Roger, but it wasn't what you'd call flaming bloody passion. I enjoyed having him in my bed. I couldn't get involved with him though, not after Terry and Sam. Actually, I thought Roger was a right bloody drip when I first met him. I had trouble hearing what he was saying when he could be bothered to open his mouth. He used to talk into his shirt. It got on my nerves the way he spoke. I'll never forget one night when I wasn't in the mood for sex. I had a heart to heart with him. He talked alright then. I realized he wasn't the drip I'd taken him for. It was just that he was shy and afraid of making a fool of himself. Little Jeff's the quiet type too. He's a tower of strength, small as he is. I put him in charge of the catering when I used to give my sex parties. He was a proper artist with the cheese and ham rolls, and the speed on him when he spread the butter took your breath away. He was a wonderful barman too. He always wore a smart jacket and a bow tie, and you could tell at a glance when one of my gentlemen started to get scriffy. Nobody ever got nastily drunk at my sex parties, and it was mostly thanks to clever little Jeff. Both Jeffrey and Roger look up to Cynthia and are happy to take orders from her. What with Terry first and then Sam and Jos chucking me over for that French woman. I was convinced that there wasn't a single man in the whole wide bloody world that I could rely on to look after me. I became my own boss, though it took a bit of time. Roger and little Jeff do as I tell them, and they don't seem to mind. That's just as well, because if they did they'd soon be told where to get off. One evening in the Elm Tree calf, a woman whom Cynthia had served on many previous occasions started a conversation with her. I didn't know she was a prostitute. She clearly didn't look as if she was on the game. She was about forty and she wore hardly any makeup. She seemed quite respectable. Do you live in Victoria, dear? she asked me. Ever so casual. Yes, I said. Just a stone's throw away from here, really. Then she wanted to know if I worked evenings, and I said I did. I was still in the dark about what she was on about, what she was after. Well, my dear, I'd like to use your room for my business, she said. I'll leave before you get back from work and I'll pay you three pounds an evening. I thought Blimey, this is easy money. I was being paid three pounds a week in the elm tree, and here she was offering me three pounds a night. I'll keep your room clean, dear. You won't know I've been there. You've got a wash basin, haven't you? I told her I had. Can I start tomorrow then, dear? I said she could and she slipped me the evening's money in advance. As a result of this encounter, Cynthia decided to become a landlady of sorts. There I was making this extra cash from the prostitute and putting the money straight in the bank. So one day I had what I thought was a brainwave. Why didn't? I hire a small flat and let it out to a prostitute who preferred not to work at home. I got the place easily. There were always flats and rooms on offer in Victoria in those days. I had a banker's reference to help me, and very few girls who were on the game had one of those. I'll never forget. I went to the par I went to Park Lane and I chose the prettiest girl I could find and asked her if she needed somewhere to take her clients. We got talking and made a deal. I paid £10 a week to the proper landlord and I charged her £20. I reckon I could make a nice little profit that way, and not have to worry myself sick, earning the necessary for Dominic's upkeep and education. Within a matter of months she was letting out four flats, all of them in the vicinity of Victoria Station. I should have become bloody rich, but I didn't. I had to pay the landlords regularly, if only to keep their noses out of the flats. I kept my side of the bargain, but not the girls. The only one who ever paid on the nail was the one who used my room. The others were terrible. Whenever Roger went round to collect the rent, they always had some bloody excuse they couldn't cough up. They gave him some real bullshit. The truth was, no sooner had they got the punter's money than they was wasting it on drink and drugs. If I'd known the trouble I was going to have, I wouldn't have gone into business. I had the idea I was on to a good thing. It was a cast iron proof, but I was wrong. I hate it when people don't play fair, and those girls were making more than enough to cover the odds to afford to pay me on time. Thanks to them, I found myself in debt in the end because I was having to pay the landlords a month's rent in advance, and they were sometimes more than a month's late in their payments to me. Cynthia befriended a notably reliable prostitute called Martha. When she had a place of her own, I became her maid. I answered the phone and opened the door to the men. I watched her closely because this was a new world to me. I was just a beginner. She was very curt with her customers and never pretended to be affectionate. You can't kiss me, she would say to them. You can do what you want, but I won't be kissed. When I started running my brothel, I made it clear to my girls that I preferred it if they kissed my gentleman. I liked her I like a girl to be loving on the bed, and there's nothing more loving than kissing to my way of thinking. But Martha was hard with the men, and it showed, mind you, some of them wanted to be humiliated, so they were excited when she spoke to them in her headmistress's voice. She had a lot of what are known in the trade as golden ring clients, blokes who want to be peed on. Some days she had to drink gallons of tea to keep up with the demand. Here's another one, Sin. Be a love and put the kettle on. Oh, I was shocked. I can tell you. I only knew about straight sex in those days. I thought that all a man wanted was to fuck a woman because Terry and Sam didn't seem to have much else on their minds. I was very much mistaken. I've learned different since then. Nothing shocks me now, though I have had one or two requests that have stopped me in my tracks. It's all human in my view. You may wish it wasn't, but then again we don't live in paradise. A couple of Martha's golden reiners and a few of her normal blokes took a shine to me, but I said no to them. I'd have died at the thought of peeing on someone, and I was earning enough as a maid without having to lie down on a bed and make lie down on a bed to make more. My business dealings hadn't turned sour, and I was still seeing my old boy in a Bentley. I wasn't to know that life was soon going to knock me sideways. Cynthia's career as a leaseholder ended as abruptly as it had begun. I was too soft with the girls, and Roger was too pleasant to be a good rent collector. He couldn't scare a bloody cat. All of a sudden the money wasn't coming in and I panicked. I gave the girls the heave ho and got myself shot of all the flats but one. I'd given up being a maid by now. I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. The bills were piling up, as I say, I panicked. I had this six-room flat I was living in with Roger, and I remember I had the sudden fear that I wouldn't be able to pay the rent. I'd always paid my way, and now here I was, skinned. I couldn't ask Josh anymore, and Martha had her own rent to find when I tried to tap her for a loan. I felt really bitter. I was frightened too, about the landlord coming round and demanding his money. I don't know why I worried so much, because he couldn't have got me out. But I worry I bloody did. I'll never forget, Mr Fox was his name, rang my bell, and I went, opened the door and he said, I've called about the rent. I invited him in and I told him straight out I didn't have it. Let's discuss this let's discuss this in the lounge, he said. I caught his meaning. Martha had a flat in a block up the street, and when she was short of the ready, when the rent was due she would give Fox a free fuck. Without saying that that's what he wanted, he more or less implied that we could discuss things better if I drew the curtains. We sat on the sofa and he got very close to me. I was a bloody fool because he was a decent bloke, and if I'd said to him on the doorstep, I'll pay you next week, or even next month, he would have been alright, I'm sure. But I didn't. I let him in, and of course he expected that I would behave like Martha, who he knew was a pro. I'd been her maid, but I'd never gone with a man for money. Anyway, he snuggled up to me, and I felt awful. I couldn't remember whether I wanked him or if he went the whole way, but I know he took advantage, and I felt awful. It's what I was feeling that I can't forget. It was the first time I'd done anything like that. I gave in to him because I was frightened that he was going to tell me that I had to go. After he left, I felt absolutely awful. The thought that went through my mind was, well, I've done it. I'd refrained from doing it all these years, and now, at last, I'd done it. I thought, Christ, even though I've got no money, I've done it. It was the breaking point. I realized I could do it and make money at the same time. I was so upset about it, that one incident, I'd made the decision to go back on the game after Joss had thrown me over. But that one incident with Mr. Fox was the breaking point. It made me bloody determined. I was never going to go crawling to people for money again. I had that other flat in Paddington, and it was my and it was me, Cynthia Payne. Cynthia chose as her maid a permanently distressed lesbian. Dolores is a kind soul, but she's no bundle of fun and that's the truth. She can be in a room with fifty people all laughing their heads off, and she'll be the only one who doesn't see the joke. I've seldom seen her smile even. She's the perfect funeral guest, Dolores is. She's she'd look more miserable than the mourners. She used to get on my bloody nerves sometimes. Here, crack that face depression. That's what I'd say to her when she was deeper in the dumps than usual. She was very mannish, Dolly is. I'd never known her wear a dress or a skirt. Always has her hair cut short. The funny thing is a lot of my clients fancied her. There she is, looking butch and gloomy, and some of them had the nerve to ask her to whip them or beat them up. And these were the same blokes who had come to me for a plain old fashioned fuck. She has a lovely speaking voice on the phone, so the customers thought they were coming to a really classy establishment. Anyway, I'll never forget. I told her that I was going on the game. She knew all about my business activities, but she was genuinely shocked that I was thinking about becoming a prostitute myself. You're not, she said. You can't. I can't, I said. Because I've bloody well got to. That first day in the flat my nerves were really on edge. I kept sending Dolly out for quarter bottles of gin. I'm not much of a drinker, but I needed Dutch courage that first day. I can't remember how much I knocked back, but I couldn't get pissed. Hard as I tried. Go and get another one, Dolly. And down the stairs she went. She was up and down like a yo yo all afternoon, and the more I drank, the more of a state I was getting into. I'd have two babies, three abortions, I'd been a prostitute's maid and still couldn't make the switch. There's a man arrived, Dolly said. So I said. Show him in, I lay back and let it happen. But I kept him talking for an hour afterwards because I didn't have the wherewithal to ask him for money. It was him who mentioned it in the end. You do charge for your services, don't you? he said. He was well spoken and had nice manners, and I can remember thinking that if all the blokes were like him, then life as a pro wouldn't be too bad. Roger was unaware of the precise nature of her employment. He thought I was out waitressing. I used to leave for work in the mornings wearing a black dress and a white apron, and I'd come home at nights in the same outfit. I didn't want him to know what I was doing, so I kidded him. I was working at Connort Rooms in Victoria. If he was in when I got back at night, I'd say I'd spin him a yarn and a half about having about having been on my feet all day, when the truth was I'd been on my back. Little Jeff was the first to hear what I was up to. I burst into tears when I told him. He was surprised, because he'd only ever seen me in a happy go-lucky mood or in a foul in a foul, bloody temper. Tears were the last things he expected. He talks about it to this day because I don't think he's seen me cry since. God knows I've had enough to cry over, but I hadn't at least not in front of others. I'm only doing it for three months, I said to little Jeff, just to get the bills paid. I had to tell Roger eventually, but he didn't like what he heard. But he knew he had to lump it. He had no choice. I didn't tell anyone else. I was ashamed. That was the reason. I meant what I said to little Jeff about not doing it for long. I just wanted to make a quick pile and then settle down to something respectable. But Dominic was growing up and I had to find the money to send him to boarding school, and apart from being a waitress, which didn't pay well unless you were in a posh west end restaurant where you got large tips. I couldn't think of anything else I could work at that would bring in so much. It's bloody hard work, I can tell you. Being nice and friendly to one bloke after another. I'll never forget. I made a terrible mistake to start with. I was short of clients, so I placed an advert in a tobaccoinist's window in Edgeware Road. French polishing was all it said, plus my phone number. Of course. I should have put large chests for sale, or erection and demolition. And then I wouldn't have had any trouble. I didn't know what French polishing meant. I honestly thought it was a fancy phrase for a fark. Imagine my surprise when a gentleman insisted I give him a gram. I don't do that, I said. Then why advertise that you do? Suddenly it dawned on me that I was selling myself as a platter. I've never enjoyed going down, and I only put my heart into it when I'm in love with someone. Anyway, I told the bloke that I would be happy to suck him off so as long as he wore a French letter. He didn't look too pleased about that, but he could see that I was serious. He didn't pay me a second visit. It was the same with all the other fellows who turned up expecting a French polishing. I made every one of them wear a rubber raincoat. No wonder none of them came back. They must have fought me bloody right cow, a real con artist. Cynthia's career as a French polisher was of necessity brief. It was Roger who quite accidentally solved her problem about the shortage of clientele. He was working at Victoria Coach Station at the time. He came home one night and he said, Here, Cinders, take a look at this. It was a little magazine called Penny Black. At least that's what I think it was called. I'd never seen a contact magazine before. Roger had found it under a s under a seat in one of the coaches and was all set to throw it away when he flicked it open, casual like. Every single page was full of these tiny advertisements, no more than a line or two. Severe Mistress provides corrective training. Virgin Male requires mature women for sex education. ACDC couple seek similar for fossums. That sort of thing. I read it from cover to cover and I can't say I understood all the ads, because compared to some of those people I was really rather innocent. They used expressions I'd never heard of. I asked Roger if I should take a chance and he said it couldn't do any harm. It was a bit more bloody discreet, he said, than sticking a card in a tobacconist's window. So I sat down and I thought very carefully about it. I really racked my brain trying to find the right words. I knew, too, I wasn't going to use. I'd done enough French polishing. I think I wrote that I was booksome and petite, which Was no more than the truth, and that I'd like to make the acquaintance of interested gentlemen. I sent off my advertisement to the magazine with a postal order, and they replied that they would put it in with a box number and would be forwarding all correspondence in due course. Oh, I was at on the edge of my seat for days. I can't describe how on edge I was, waiting for those letters to come. I didn't believe I'd get any, to be honest. And when they came, I was bloody bombarded with them. I was flabbergasted. I was up night after night writing replies. I had to let the blokes know tactifly, like that I wasn't doing it just for pleasure. I charged for my services. The mention of money put a few of them off. I have to admit, but there were plenty who were happy to pay. A lot of blokes I met at that time have stayed friends with me, mainly because of my sex parties, though some were surprised when they found out I enjoyed being a madam. Men are funny about prostitutes. If a man's got a girl all to himself in a room, he can feel protective to her. If he wants to. Many blokes were like that to me. They thought I was a helpless little thing. But when they saw me years after at my parties giving orders to my own girls, they weren't pleased by the difference in me. They only fancied me when I looked bloody helpless, I suppose. I appealed to their masculine pride. Didn't like to see their petite and booksome. Cindy behaving like a shrewd businesswoman. That was only some of them, though. The rest agree that I found myself when I started organizing sex for other people. Being a prostitute, Cynthia discovered, meant having to change one's address with depressing regularity. I trapezed from flat to flat. I had dealings with a couple of landlords who were right bastards. They knew very well what work I was doing, yet they took my rent in advance, and a bloody deposit too. They let me get on with my business for about a month or so. Then they asked me to leave. They were shocked to learn, they said, that I was using their premises for an immoral purpose. They weren't bloody shocked at all, because both of their places had been Tart's. Because both of their places had been Tart's parlours long before I used them. They wanted to get me out quick so they could get another girl in. I threatened with the police both times. I had no alternative but to leave. Anyway, I got wise to that particular racket. After that treatment, I decided to take Dominic along with me whenever I was looking for a new flat. I dragged Dolores in as well. She was the last person in the world you would think had anything to do with prostitution. With that mourn with that mournful bloody face of hers, she helped me no end to come over as responsible. I passed her off as my companion. We'd been very close at school, I said, and when she heard that I'd gone through a divorce, she'd rushed up to London to take care of me and my little boy. She was bloody wonderful, Dolores was. At spilling a sob story. You felt that any minute she was going to shed buckets. Shouldn't have to act. She was a natural. Oh I laughed myself sick as soon as I'd signed the lease. Even Dolores managed to move her lips a bit. Go on, Depression. Let's have a smile. I would say to her, I'm smiling, Cinders. Can't you see? I've lost my magnifying glass, Dolly. I'm not sure I can. Thinking back on it, I was bloody rude to her when the mood was on me. Despite the fact that despite the fact that the majority of her clients were congenital even, as she insists protective. Cynthia was deeply disconnected. During the two years or so, she worked as a prostitute. She found herself unable to play the game with much enthusiasm. I used to lay there like a log. Oh, I would smile and I'd do my best to encourage the bloke who didn't have staying power. But really, my mind was miles away. I was terribly withdrawn. I felt cold inside. It was like doing exercises all day, except that I wasn't what you would call energetic. I was suppressing my personality. It was as if I wasn't being being allowed to show the world as a person I knew I was. This Cynthia who'd given herself to Terry and Sam. While I was on the bed, I was nobody. Hard as I tried to look loving. The man never guessed the state I was in because I was too bloody good an actress to let on. I was miserable. I was professional in the respect. I had my future to consider, as well as Dominic's upkeep. I was determined to stay in control of myself and make enough money to live the life I wanted. I was going to survive, somehow or another. Cynthia was always regular in her payments to Mrs. Somerville, who had proved herself to be the ideal foster mother. Dominic was not only clothed and fed, he was also the recipient of genuine affection. He was always shown more love as a child than I ever was. The boy prospered moderatively. Well, at the boarding school in Sussex, to which he had been sent by a proud Cynthia, I wanted nothing but the best for him. A report survives for the autumn term, 1961, when Dominic was a little over nine years old. The subject at which he excelled was mathematics. He learns rules quickly now, and his work is always neat and well presented. He did a good examination. Dominic's interest in maths still flourishes, in fact. He is at present employed by a financial company in the city. His progress in English, history, geography, and scripture also gave cause for favorable comment. His games master observed, he approaches football with keenness and strews ability. The one note of criticism is sounded by the former mistress, who considered him cooperative and helpful as a general rule, and added, but can be obstinate. This capacity for obstinacy appears to be the sole trait that Dominic has inherited from his mother. Dominic continued his education at a secondary model school in London, where he applied himself and earned good results. His greatest friend was a black African boy whose charm Cynthia found irresistible. So close was their friendship that Cynthia began to worry when her son wasn't going out with the girls. He was happy enough spending his evenings in Ezekiel's company. He was really a lovely lad, Ezekiel. He had girl friends, alright, but Dominic didn't seem to be bothered with them. I started to wonder if he was in love with Ezekiel, in a physical way I mean. To put her mind at rest, she gave him an unusual present on his sixteenth birthday. I handed him a ten pound note and a piece of paper with an address, and a phone number written on it. You ring that number, Dominic, I told him, because that's where you're spending the tenner. The poor sod looked ever so confused. She's expecting you, so if you don't turn up, I'll hear all about it. Who's she? he asked. You'll soon find out. I guarantee you'll have a nice surprise. I'll never forget. I'd arranged with a beautiful coloured girl who was on the game, and she should take my Dominic's cherry. I was convinced that he was still a virgin, and I wanted him to be broken in by someone who was really experienced. Oh, I was bloody excited when he set off that afternoon. He'd have thought I was about to have the fun, not him. I couldn't wait for him to get home again and tell and tell me what had happened. As it was, the girl rang me and said that he'd passed the test, and he was normal, beyond the shadow of a doubt. Did you enjoy yourself, Dominic? I said before he could even get through the door. Oh yes, mum, he said, with a smile on his face. As bloody over the moon I was so pleased. Dominic saw his father on rare occasions in the course of his childhood. He did not like what he saw. He made it clear to Cynthia that he could live as easily without Terence as Terence had lived without him. Terence did not receive an invitation to his son's wedding. I told Terry that Dominic was going to be married. He was upset that he hadn't been asked to the ceremony. He saw something of it though. Terence watched his son and daughter-in-law as they posed for photographs on the steps of the church. He was some distance away on the opposite side of the street. He could have been any idle bystander for all Dominic knew. After the newlyweds and their guests had driven off to the reception, Terence returned to the seaside town where he had such fun with the volatile seventeen-year-old who later bore his child, whom he hoped would be possessed of his own intelligence. Cynthia adopted several aliases while she was working as a prostitute. For some time she wavered between Heather Rumbold and Judith Mansell. As Judith Mansell Smith, she deemed herself a business consultant and had the occupation printed on her notepaper. That Mansell Smith was a bit of a disaster really. There was more than one bloke who assumed that because I had a double barreled handle I would be posh. They expected the Duchess type with a cut glass voice, and then they saw me. You're not quite what I had in mind, a well dressed gentleman said. He'd only heard me say Hello. He scarfed down the stairs like greased bloody lightning. Cynthia's flat in West London was raided by the police following a complaint from someone living in the same block. She pleaded guilty to the charge of keeping a brothel, even though Dolores was only engaged to answer the telephone and see the men in and off the premises. The presence of another woman, albeit a cooperatively innocent one, was enough to make the charge stick. Cynthia decided to settle for a quick fine rather than contest the case. She needed to get back to work. Unfortunately, for the two women, the brief session in the magistrates' court was referred to in several newspapers. The Loras' family were horrified to read that a girl they always considered totally respectable had been convicted for prostitution. Despite her assurances that she only had acted as Cynthia's maid, they continued to express their shock and outrage. The fact that she worked in a sinful establishment was wicked enough in their eyes. Their behavior did nothing to convince Dolores that the ways of this world are just. She sank into a deeper gloom if that was possible. She tendered her resignation to Cynthia, who tried to persuade her to stay. It was no use. She was really bitter about the fine and being labeled a prostitute. Her family gave her a rough time. I understood how she felt. She was bloody terrified of a second arrest. Now that she was known to the police, Cynthia was not long in finding someone to replace Dolores. Her successor, Janet, was much more of a woman of the world. Janet had been on the game herself for 15 arduous years and had given up after succumbing to a nervous breakdown. She specialized in kinky bondage fellows, barristers, member of parliament, stockbrokers, and assorted businessmen. She was the ideal maid for Cynthia in that she could detect a potentially dangerous or awkward customer by simply looking at them. It was through Janet that Cynthia met Gregory, who has exerted a lasting influence on her. Gregory had been one of Janet's strangest clients. On his first visit to her flat in Paddington, he had brought with him a special chair which he designed and built. Janet requested to secure him into this punishment chair by means of various straps and to leave him in it for an indefinite period. There was no sexual contact whatsoever. Merely to be tied and bolted into his own variation of the stocks was all that was needed to ensure Gregory's complete satisfaction. Janet felt sorry for Gregory and developed a friendship with him. In this he was uniquely privileged because Janet had kept all her other punters at a professional distance. They were known to her solely as a series of peculiar demands. Janet was struck by Gregory's sensitive nature and later by his wide-ranging intelligence. She welcomed him into her small circle of acquaintances. Cynthia was as impressed by Gregory as he was by her. It was funny, but I knew I could help him in some way, just as he could help me. I hadn't been working on him for very long before he put that bloody punishment chair up in the attic. What you want from life goes deeper than that, I told him. I was bloody right too. I think I gave him the courage to face the truth about himself, that he's only happy when he's dressed as a woman. As for him, he taught me a hell of a lot about domination and how to keep a slave under control. It's thanks to Greg and to dear old Mitch, the squadron leader, that I came out of myself and started to enjoy life again. Plenty of men have known my body, but it's only Gregory who knows my mind. In the summer of 1972, Cynthia persuaded Roger to drive her to Margate. When I went to Dreamland Park and there was Sam, just as he'd used to be, behind the ball game. I hadn't been down there for ten years and I didn't really expect to see him. And I just looked behind the ball game and there he was. It was quite amazing actually, that twelve years had gone past. I can still see the look of astonishment on his face, because he was thinking back to the time when he called me over to his ball game. There he was, and had I known I was going to meet him, I'd had been all bloody dressed up and everything. I looked bloody terrible. I'd just had this nervous breakdown over a bloody bloke, a copper called Wally, and I was in a shocking state. Anyway, I rushed over to him and he put his arms round me and kissed and cuddled me. As if, well, you wouldn't have thought twelve years had gone past. And while he was cuddling me, several people who had known me when I was young, when I was his doll, they were all watching. As he was cuddling me there. As he was cuddling me, there was no doubt about it. In my mind, there was still something there. I was a bit emotional. I said You've got two kids now, haven't you? He said, Yes, I have. And I remember saying, Yes, but you got rid of mine, didn't you? I remember saying something like that, and I remember thinking I'll sling that one into your face. But that made him feel rotten. He kept on cuddling me though. It's nice to see you, doll, he said. And I said, You will look in on me, won't you? Here's my number. You will phone me, won't you? Sam said yes.

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But he never did. Then I wrote to him. Now I want you to come round and see me. That's what I wrote. He didn't reply. I should have gone to Margate on my own and pushed it.

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But at the time I couldn't do it. I thought he would contact me. But he didn't. When he kissed and cuddled me, it was as if twelve years hadn't gone past. I felt I could easily have started the relationship over all over again. I think he sensed what I was feeling. I wrote him another letter. I know how to handle you now. I can cope with sex now. But no. He never contacted me. I thought he was divorcing his wife and was frightened of getting involved with me. He was the only man I ever wanted to marry. And that has been chapter six of an English madam. Now, she sounded a little bit homophobic when she said um she was worried if her son was normal.

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Um I honestly wouldn't give I don't know, I honestly wouldn't give my kid a gift of seeing a sex worker. Depending on the situation. I don't know, that is a bit weird to me.

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Um I think uh what was it, sixteen? Yeah, sixteen. I don't know. Um especially to make sure that your son isn't gay. I I don't know, that kind of rub me the wrong way a little bit, just that little bit. I hope she wasn't a homophobic. I mean, no offense, woman, but like your life isn't normal either if you want to go by society standards. So I don't really think you can judge others if he was gay or anything. I don't know if I'm liking this woman honestly. Yeah, especially because she never uses the word sex worker, but she just always uses the word prostitute. And this book was made I think in 1990, potentially. So the word sex worker was about, and so like they could have actually not. Okay, I think this book, yeah, 1982. This is when the book was out. So they could have said sex workers uh round and prostitutes. I think that's like my biggest thing. And yeah, I think there's quite a few things about this book and just about how Cynthia has led her life. It also just shows about how again poverty is a massive one. Yeah, I'm gonna show you the images that were on the pages. So there's one with Cynthia at home and Cynthia's actual lounge. And then there's one with her doing the parties, and they're all in black and white. Quite old pictures and there's um a headline in the papers of when she had her trial and when apparently she had a session with a bank manager, which is quite uh interesting. And then the other one is Cynthia returning to prison with an officer after her appeal and the squadron leader, uh, Michael exercising Cynthia's overdog outside the prison. Um, and Cynthia being greeted on her release from prison by Selma James. It's very interesting to see how things have changed just in the years, especially language that we use. Chapter seven will be next next week, I think. Right. Well, thank you for listening. This has been Behind About Podcast from Infos and Victoria. Um, if you enjoyed this episode, please do not forget to leave a like. And yeah, I'll see you next time. Bye bye.