She turned to Fiona.

"Would you like to help with their baths, my dear?"

Fiona smiled and nodded and we both followed the happy trio into the bathroom which had four separate tubs and a row of tiny toilets for little bottoms. It also had a table which held three sets of enema equipment. Staff called in one of the junior nurses while the three kids removed their pyjamas and stood naked, pulling faces as they saw what was in store for them. I expected Fiona to look shocked, but she was just interested.

"You give them enemas as well?"

Staff nodded.

"Yes - just a quick soap and water one to empty their bowels before they leave."

"I've never come across that sort of equipment. We use a Higginson syringe at home. I'm the eldest of eight children, so it certainly gets a lot of use. I look after the girls and mother treats the boys - and me, of course."

I moved towards the door and it was only then that I realised that Fiona had not noticed me follow her into the room. She swung round and then put her hand to her mouth while her face turned beetroot red. Staff didn't seem to notice because she just smiled.

"Well, there's a little girl here who needs a nice enema. If we do the three at once then it will save time. Come along, children. The sooner we finish the sooner you can go home."

I left as three kids bent over the table and three rectal tubes were inserted into three small butts. I went back to the corner and sat cross-legged on the floor to help a boy of about ten who was struggling with a constructor kit. He looked up at me and grinned.

"Are they getting enemas? I told them they would have to have one before they went home!"

"Of course they are. So will you when it's your turn to leave."

"I don't mind. I had one yesterday. I like it better when my mummy does it though."

"You do? Why is that?"

He grimaced.

"Some of the nurses are a bit rough and the soap stings a lot. Mum is very gentle and she mixes olive oil with the water - that's much nicer."

"Olive oil? I never heard of that before."

"It doesn't sting at all. And mum doesn't give me a lot of water all at once - she just gives me little enemas until I need to go to the lavatory.

"What do you mean?"

"I take my pants down and she just gives me one squirt, then I can put them on again. After a while she gives me another and she just keeps on doing that until I go."

That was an interesting idea - I'd never heard of it before and I decided that I would try it myself some time. I carried on playing until Fiona returned with three bright and shining children dressed in ordinary clothes, ready for collection. I grinned mischievously at her.

"I didn't know you'd had all that practice!"

She blushed and then straightened up.

"Really, Jason, you're as silly as my brothers. Every time one of them gets an enema they all get giggly and stupid and they start wrestling with each other."

"Huh?"

"They sleep two to a bed and they laugh and wrestle half of the night until mother tells them that she will tan their hides if they don't stop."

I couldn't suppress the smile that her innocence brought to my face. God - she just knew nothing at all! That made her angry.

"See - now you're doing it as well. There's nothing to make a fuss about - it's just a simple thing that everybody needs from time to time. There's no need for any embarrassment and certainly no cause for sniggering about it. When we become doctors we are going to have to do all sorts of intimate things to people, after all. We have to rise above this sort of childish attitude."

I agreed with her, mainly to make her shut up. After that we had a whale of a day playing with the kids. Even Professor Miller turned up - he had been called to see one of the pre-op kids - and joined in. We didn't even notice the time until the nurses started to draw the curtains - it got dark at five that time of the year. By the time we tidied things up and changed, it was past six.

I was about to offer Fiona a ride home anyway when she asked first.

"Jason - do you think you could see me home? There's a gang of boys who always frighten me and it's very dark just now."

"Sure - hop in and I'll take you home."

She directed me where to drive and I saw that we were heading into an area near the Gorbals - tenements which had a fearsome reputation for violence and alcoholism, often combined under the effects of "Red Biddy" - cheap red wine mixed with industrial alcohol and flavoured by bubbling coal gas through it (not to be confused with the delicious herb- flavoured Irish beer of the same name!).

"You live here?"

She looked at me.

"It's cheap. We're not rich."

I winced - because I should have known that all along. And I had been throwing my money around on toys and Italian meals when she had to live in a dump like this. Finally she held up her hand.

"I'll get out here and walk the rest of the way - it's just around that corner."

"I'll take you."

"No - it will be better if you don't. My landlady doesn't approve of boyfriends hanging around her house and if she saw this jeep then I would never hear the end of it. Thank you for the ride."

I sat in the jeep for a while - then I heard a scream. I drove round the corner at full speed to see Fiona surrounded by three boys who were keeping pace as she walked. The cause of the scream was obvious - her coat was wide open and one of them was pawing at her chest. I jumped out and yelled at them to leave her alone.

They promptly forgot all about her - I suspect they were just having their version of fun, because girls were rarely actually sexually molested. I was different - I was male, a foreigner and on their territory. Then I found that I was in big trouble as the leader reached into his pocket and produced a cutthroat razor while the others suddenly had lengths of bicycle chain in their hands. It was hard to know which was the worse weapon - the razor slashed and disfigured, but the bike chains could rupture a kidney or break a skull.

I yelled to Fiona that she should run, but she just stood there as the three started a slow advance on me, their weapons waving menacingly.

I uttered a prayer of thanks to the sergeant as I waited for them to get close enough. My plan, such as it was, was simple - I had to get the boy with the razor first and get him hard. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound which emerged was just a strangled grunt as I kicked him in the balls just as hard as I possibly could - his tight trousers added to the effectiveness of the blow. I actually felt something give, and then he just dropped straight down to the ground, out cold.

The other two stopped dead, but they were obviously experienced street fighters because their next move was to spread out and come at me from two directions. I heard the sergeant's voice quite clearly in my mind.

"They canna use a stick or a club if you get close, laddie. They want ye tae stand back and let them get a good swing."

I picked the smaller one and hurled myself at him while his chain flailed harmlessly. The sergeant had not mentioned the Glasgow kiss, but I was positioned just right and I had the satisfaction of hearing his nose crunch under the blow. The next move was pure instinct - I swung him round and he took the blow from his partner's chain on the back of his neck. Two definitely down, but now I was going to get hit - I pushed the inert body away, but that gave him time to raise the chain again. I crossed my arms in front of my face and braced myself for the blow just like the sergeant had taught me as his swagger stick landed on the seat of my pants for the tenth time.

"Never turn your back! Once you turn your back you're done for because now ye cannae defend yersel! Only Errol Flynn never gets hit in a fight - take the blow on your forearms and then hit back!"

But the blow didn't come. Instead he staggered back as Fiona fastened herself on to his upraised arm and pulled him off balance. This time my kick landed on his kneecap and, judging by the scream I had managed to dislocate it. I turned and started towards the jeep, then I stopped dead as five more thugs came racing round the corner. The sergeant's lessons had only suggested running like hell if you were outnumbered. I grabbed Fiona and stood still, hoping that somehow we could dodge round them.

They ignored us. They ran straight past and then stood looking down at my victims. The one with the dislocated knee suddenly stopped screaming and lapsed into groans as a boot crashed into his chest - I clearly heard the rib break.

"Barlinnie bastards!"

Then it dawned on me - the three had intruded into the wrong territory. The leader of the new gang turned and faced me.

"Ye dae this?"

"Yes. They were trying to rape my girl."

"Bastards."

I propelled Fiona towards the jeep to the accompaniment of soft and harder thuds as Gorbals justice was meted out on the intruders. She pulled away from me.

"Leave them alone - they've had enough. LEAVE THEM ALONE!"

To my amazement they stopped and then they turned and looked at her.

"They're already unconscious! Just leave them be."

Another nod.

"Aye - ye're right. They winna come back in a hurry and it's no worth killing them."

I grabbed Fiona and we drove away as the three bodies started to move and groan - the human body was obviously a lot more robust than it appeared. I went a couple of miles before I pulled in beside a pub. Fiona was shivering and almost incoherent by that stage, so I headed for the traditional remedy.

"Two large brandies, please."

I took her to a corner table - the place hadn't started to fill up at that time - and coaxed her into sipping the brandy. Her colour returned and she stopped shaking, then she started to splutter - and that spilled the rest of the drink on her coat.

I decided that things would have calmed down, so I took Fiona home - this time all of the way to the row house where she lived. The door was locked, so I knocked - and then knocked harder. We both looked up as a window slid open, revealing an angry, ferret-faced woman.

There is no point in reproducing the conversation which consisted mainly of obscenities. The gist of it was that Fiona had brought trouble to the whole area and she was no longer welcome in the house - she had to get out and take her belongings with her. The woman disappeared and then a shower of Fiona's property shot out of the window.

I concentrated on catching the books - they were valuable - and meanwhile the street became covered with items of clothing. Once the books were safe, I started to pick the clothes up - Fiona was just too distressed to do anything but cry. It was an embarrassing and humiliating thing for any girl to have her undergarments spread around but the final items were a box of sanitary towels and one of those belts with hooks at front and back to hold them in position.

That finally shocked Fiona out of her sobbing. She wailed in despair, grabbed the belt from my hand and started to wrap the pads in a skirt to get them out of sight. I was shocked too - this was the fifties and menstruation was a big female taboo. No girl would ever mention the process or let any male know anything about it and the scattering of those items was probably worse for Fiona than if she had been stripped naked in the street.

I hastily put everything in the jeep - Fiona's cases had also been thrown out, but we could pack them later. I bustled her into the passenger seat and drove away as fast as I could.

I stopped when we were well out of the area and tried to comfort Fiona.

"It's all right. You're well out of that place."

She turned her tear-stained face to me.

"But where can I go? I've got nowhere to live."

"We can find new lodgings for you."

"I don't have any money, you idiot! I had to pay in advance and now I can't afford anywhere else."

"Your parents will..."

She hammered at me with her fists in frustration.

"They haven't got any money either! We're just crofters and they had to borrow to support me here. I don't even know if I will be able to come back next year."

My initial reaction was to get her into a hotel for the weekend, but I didn't have that sort of money with me and the banks were shut until Monday.

"You're coming home with me - we'll sort this out later."

I was hungry as well, and I spotted a fish and chip shop. I bought two portions, and gave one to her.

"Eat. Everything looks better when you eat."

We devoured the succulent fish and the golden chips (French fries to me, but I was getting used to the language). I certainly felt a lot better and Fiona went quiet, which was a distinct improvement. It was temporary, though - as we started off she suddenly made me stop and then threw up everything into the gutter.

I got her back to my cottage and I just about had to carry her in. She sat by the Aga, a perfect picture of misery, reeking of brandy and vomit in equal proportions.

I went to the bedroom and got a clean pair of pyjamas, then I eased Fiona into the bathroom.

"Clean yourself up. Your stuff is all filthy, but these pyjamas are clean - put them on."

She was in there quite a while, and she was a comical figure when she emerged in the over- large pyjamas. I grabbed a blanket from the bed and draped it round her while I made her the universal medicine - a cup of hot, sweet tea.

The only effect it had was to make her run for the door and throw up again. She came back in obvious pain, clutching her stomach and groaning. Had things been more openly discussed, I would have recognised her symptoms as pre-menstrual cramps, but such things were never mentioned in male company. I jumped to the wrong conclusion - male stomach pains were usually the result of constipation and I had learned as a small child the appropriate treatment for that ailment.

I went into the bathroom and filled my enema bag. Fiona looked horrified when I emerged with it.

"What are you doing with that?"

"You need an enema and I'm going to give you one."

"NO! You can't do that!"

"I remember just today a girl telling me that everyone needs an enema now and again and that there was no need for any embarrassment. What would your mother do if she saw you in this state?"

She went silent, then finally admitted that her mother would give her an enema. I indicated the bedroom.

"In here. You're going to get an enema because you need one."

Another spasm of pain seemed to decide things, because she stood up and walked slowly into the bedroom. I hung up the bag and turned to her.

"Come on - get ready."

She hesitated for a moment, then she started to cry.

"Jason - I'm just too ashamed."

"Don't be stupid. Just lie down and let me do it - you know it will make you feel better."

She turned her back to me, undid the pyjama cord and removed the trousers - the jacket was almost like a dress on her. She lay on her side, revealing a thin butt and legs - she looked almost malnourished as she lay there and my feelings were those of sympathy and tenderness rather than of any sexual desire. I greased the nozzle and slid it into her anus, then I gave her a long, slow enema with plain, warm water.

It seemed to work, because she gradually relaxed and her cramps subsided. When it was finished, I helped her to her feet and took her to the outside lavatory. I turned my back as she returned the liquid, then I got her back into the warm as fast as possible. I fed her a warmed- up can of soup while I examined my own feelings.

The odd thing was that I loved Fiona - but I didn't feel the slightest desire to have sex with her. Even giving her an enema hadn't raised any sexual feelings within me - I just felt happy that I was making her better. I tried to put it into words.

"Fiona - I never had a sister, or a brother either, but I think I would like you to be my little sister."

She blinked at me, then she managed a small, shy smile.

"Like when we work together?"

"Yes. Just like that. You always know what I'm going to do."

"So do you."

"Well - will you be my sister?"

She nodded and her smile got a little larger.

"I think it's time you went to bed - I'll sleep in here."

She looked relieved.

"Can you get my things from your car?"

"Certainly."

I had a virtuous but totally miserable and freezing night, wrapped in a blanket and trying to sleep on a hard, chilly floor with my shoes for a pillow. I got up sometime around six and riddled the Aga to get it burning brightly, then Fiona emerged wearing a slightly soiled dress and looking much better. She had first go in the bathroom while I prepared to make breakfast. We both ate bacon and eggs washed down with coffee this time - hospitality had its limits, after all.

Fiona stretched and burped.

"Thank you for everything Jason. Can you give me a ride down to the city."

"Why?"

"I think I may be able to get a bed in the Salvation Army hostel. They're good people - they won't turn me away."

"I can give you money to get new lodgings - there's only a month left until Christmas."

"I can't take money from you!"

I hadn't expected her to take it without a fight anyway - she was too proud for that. My regular Sunday routine was to drive over to the castle and take lunch with the family - maybe Caireann would have some ideas, because I was clean out of them.

"Fiona, there is no way you're going to live there. Anyway, I have to lunch with some friends - come with me, they won't mind."

She was doubtful, but eventually she let me push her into the jeep and drive over the hills to the castle. Things happened just as I knew they would - everyone fussed over her and they settled us down by the fire while we told the story of the previous night. The Campbell slapped his thighs and roared with delight when I told him that I had been able to handle the thugs.

"That's great! I think you owe that sergeant another bottle of whisky or two."

Caireann nodded.

"Yes - I think you should both go over after lunch and deliver them. Fiona and I will stay here and have a nice chat while you're gone.

We took the hint. Lunch was its usual splendid self and afterwards The Campbell and I took off for the base. The sergeant swelled with pride as I handed the whisky over and told him that I would probably have been killed without his training - we even got the honour of being taken into the sergeants mess, although that was more due to the presence of The Campbell than me.

We called in on the colonel too. Until then, "Korea" had just been something that I occasionally heard on the radio, but it was obviously something very much more serious. The colonel spoke in sombre tones about the developing conflict, then he spoke directly to The Campbell.

"I don't know if you've heard, but the Black Watch is going over there."

I felt a chill. Robbie had finally been drafted, much to his annoyance - it meant two years of military service and it was going to get in the way of his first million. He had naturally got a commission and I had met him a few weeks previously in his spiffy uniform, but nothing had been said about a war!

The Campbell nodded.

"Aye. Young Robbie phoned me during the week - they're embarking from Aberdeen."

I felt guilty and I raised the subject with The Campbell as we drove home.

"Do you think I should go back home and enlist?"

He snorted his disgust.

"Of course not. It's a stupid wee war and we should just let them fight it out between them. It's you Americans - mention the word 'Communist' and you can't resist rushing into the conflict."

"But - Communism is bad."

He sighed.

"What does it matter to anyone but them? It carries the seeds of its own destruction. You really think your country is going to go commie? We just ignore them here and that works fine. Anyway - you finish your education, my boy. You can go and get killed afterwards if they haven't solved it by then."

We arrived home to find a changed Fiona. Part of it was due to the fact that Caireann had somehow managed to find new clothes for her to wear, but there was something else - she looked happy, clear of eye and just... Well, just like a huge weight had been taken off her mind.

Caireann had been organising.

"There's a camp bed in the stables that you can take back with you - it has a clean mattress and it will be quite comfortable."

"A bed?"

"Yes. A bed. Fiona is going to stay with you for the present and you are both going to be our guests here for Christmas."

"Christmas?"

"She can't get home in the middle of winter. She was going to spend her holiday with that dreadful harridan of a landlady. Incidentally, Campbell, she owes Fiona some money - she threw the poor girl out, so she has to return the rest of her payment. See to it, will you?"

He nodded.

"Aye. It will be a pleasure. I'll have a word with Crimond on Monday and tell him to threaten her with the courts if she doesn't pay up. Do you know how much he should get out of her?"

Caireann passed him a sheet of paper. He nodded again.

"I'll see to it. Don't worry, young lady, you'll get your money back."

I was still working it out.

"Fiona is going to stay with me? Is that all right with her?"

"She told me that she feels quite safe staying with you after last night. She said you were a perfect gentleman - not that I would have expected anything less from you."

Caireann took me to fetch the cot and I loaded it on to the jeep. I made a mistake - I asked her about Robbie. She went rigid and her face changed to a face of death. I said no more - I just prayed that her second-sight had got it wrong.

There were other packages as well - it turned out that Caireann regularly collected clothing for needy children from her affluent friends and a fair proportion of it fitted Fiona. It wasn't rags either - it was decent stuff that their spoiled daughters had either grown out of or discarded as unfashionable. She showed me the stuff with glee when we got back to the cottage, holding items against herself and showing her astonishment that such good clothing was simply discarded. I couldn't believe the transformation and I was surprised that she had accepted the stuff. It later transpired that the islanders passed kids clothes between families all the time, and Fiona just took it as the way things worked.

"Fiona, what on earth happened? Did Caireann use magic on you?"

She smiled.

"No. She was wonderful. First she gave me a special enema.."

"How was it special?"

"It used a long, fat rubber tube. I was frightened of it at first, but she said it was the best way of getting all the bad stuff out of me. It took ages and it really worked! Then she told me to take a hot bath. I didn't know you could take a bath - it was the wrong time."

That baffled me until the penny dropped. Those pads and the belt had been out in the open because Fiona was starting her period! That was why she had cramps. No wonder she was worried about taking an enema from me.

Fiona blushed at that point and I wanted to know why.

"What else did she do?"

"I can't tell you. It's girl things."

"You can tell me anything. I'm your brother."

She laughed.

"I wouldn't tell any of my real brothers either."

My eyes followed hers to a rectangular box that she had brought back from the castle. It didn't have a name on it, but I had seen one like it many times in the bathroom when I was a kid. I knew what Tampax were - I had discovered the instruction leaflet in the box when I was about thirteen and it had explained a lot of things to me - it even had drawings that gave me my first detail of female internal anatomy.

"You don't just mean Tampax, do you? My mom used them."

Her eyes widened and I knew I had guessed right.

"Big deal. All the girls use them in America."

"But everybody says you can't use them until you're married. Caireann said that was rubbish and she examined me while I was in the bath and then later on she showed me how to put them in."

I felt a pang of jealousy, but at least the ice was broken and Fiona was talking about it. She pirouetted in her new old dress and crowed with glee.

"They're marvellous! I don't have to wear those awful huge things any more!"

Then I carried the cot into the kitchen and set it up in the corner nearest to the Aga.

"I'll sleep here - you can have the bed."

"No - I'll sleep in the camp bed."

"No - you're a guest. Do as you're told."

We were both tired out, so we went to bed early. I was awakened by the sound of screaming from the bedroom - I rushed in and found Fiona was having a nightmare - she was sitting bolt upright with her eyes shut and she was obviously re-living her experience with the razor boys. I sat beside her and told her that everything was fine because I was there and at the same time I held her tight. She finally came out of it confused and I had to explain to her what had happened.

I got up to leave but she grabbed my sleeve.

"Jason - don't go. Don't leave me alone. I'm frightened."

"Aw, Fiona, I'm exhausted."

"Please."

Then she clinched it by lifting the blankets to make room for me. I slid in beside her and she snuggled up to me. It was the first night that I shared a bed with a woman right through until the next morning - and I couldn't have done a thing even if I had wanted to. The strange thing was that I just liked having a human being close to me and the absence of a sexual relationship actually helped, because all I needed to do was go to sleep.

The next morning presented a major problem. I had promised to be in the hospital, but I didn't want to arrive on the ward with Fiona - that would have made tongues wag. So I drove her to the centre of the city, found a reasonable-looking café, pushed some money into her hand and told her to have a slow breakfast and meet me in the med school afterwards. As it happened, it was a complete waste of time, because Wilkins had found out about us helping out on Saturday and had drawn the obvious conclusion. We didn't come to blows, but she made it very clear in a loud voice that she thought I was a two-timing bastard.

That got me an interview with Sister Miller and a lecture about keeping my private life away from work. Frankly I didn't mind one bit when she suggested that I should give it a rest at least until after Christmas - I had seen what nursing was and I wanted no part of it!

Fiona was disappointed until I suggested that we should offer to take the rest of the clothes that Caireann had collected to an orphanage next Saturday. That pleased her a lot.

"The thing is, Jason, I've always lived in a house full of children and I've always shared my bed with someone. I'm lonely here and it will be nice to be surrounded by little ones again."

She demonstrated part of that by inviting me to share her bed that night and, over the week, we became buddies. The food got much better because Fiona always put stuff on the Aga to cook slowly over the day so that there was always a hot meal waiting for our return. She also informed me of the existence of a wonderful new place called a Laundromat where you could wash clothes cheaply - she looked doubtful when I told her that they had been in America forever. It meant that I didn't have to soak things in a bucket and then trample on them in the bath any more! Faster than I would have believed possible, we settled down into comfortable living as brother and sister. Almost.

Surprisingly, it was Fiona who took the lead. We spent Saturday catching up on the housework that I had been neglecting, scrubbing and dusting until the place positively shone. We had tea - Fiona had actually made our own bread which was delicious eaten hot with butter and cold cuts - and then she stood up and stretched.

"I think we both need our enemas now."

"We do?"

She was emphatic.

"Yes, we do. I didn't get all the coughs and colds that I've had here when I was on the island and taking regular enemas."

She set about making a large jug of warm water with a small amount of soap in it while I watched and wondered if this was going to be the end of our comfortable arrangement. There was no way that I could take an enema without getting an erection and possibly an orgasm and that would destroy our relationship as buddies.

"Look, Fiona, I think it might be best if we each took our enema alone."

"You gave me an enema last week."

"That was an emergency."

"You told me that there was no need to be embarrassed and I agreed with you. You don't have to be shy either."

"Fiona, it's different for a boy."

"You're worried that you will get an erection?"

I stared at her, hardly able to believe she had said that word. She laughed.

"When we were little, we all got enemas together and I always wondered why my brothers often got erect, but it obviously wasn't sexual - they were just little children. I didn't know very much about the male genito-urinary system until recently but now it's obvious why it happened - it was purely involuntary and caused by stimulation of the prostate gland."

"You think so?"

She nodded and she obviously believed what she was saying. It didn't explain why I already was having a problem concealing my erection. I had to deal with that as a matter of priority.

"I need to use the bathroom right now, Fiona."

I shot outside and locked myself in the outhouse and got rid of a week's accumulation of semen before I emptied my bladder and bowels. I returned to the cottage with more confidence - I really did want the pleasure of taking an enema from Fiona. She was happy at my change of mind and ushered me into the bedroom. I modestly turned my back before I lowered my trousers and stepped out of my shorts. She snorted.

"Jason, I've seen naked boys before and I've spent the last two months dissecting a naked man. I'm going to spend the rest of my life as a doctor and so are you - so stop being silly."

I didn't turn round, but I didn't try to conceal things as I lay down for my enema. I felt the gentle pressure of the nozzle against my anus and my entire skin tingled as it pushed into my rectum and produced an instant erection. I closed my eyes and simply enjoyed the process of having a slow infusion of warm liquid into my rectum - Fiona was skilled in the process and avoided any suggestion of cramping.

Finally she extracted the nozzle and I had to make a decision. I decided to go for broke, so I stood up without making any effort to conceal my boner. Fiona looked at it with what seemed to be professional interest, then I grabbed my coat and made for the toilet.

She had made up enough solution for two, and when I got back I put my underpants on and poured the rest of the jug into the enema bag. It was obvious that there was some sort of internal struggle going on with Fiona and I contemplated letting her off the hook, but then I decided to wait.

She finally moved and pulled her dress over her head. She wore a petticoat, of course, and she proceeded to remove that as well, leaving her standing in her bra and panties - utilitarian garments both. I just knew that if I said anything it would produce a major problem, so I stood, holding the enema pipe, while she fought it out silently with herself.

Finally, with what was obviously a Herculanean effort, she reached back and undid her bra, then she pushed down her pants and stepped out of them, leaving her stark naked. I had seen naked women and girls before, but Fiona lacked their ample curves - her ribs were clearly visible, her stomach was flat and indented, throwing her pubic mound into high relief. Her arms and legs were thin and wiry with musculature as clearly visible as if she were a dissection specimen on a slab. Then she flung herself at me and started to weep.

"I'm UGLY!"

I hugged her, dropping the pipe in the process.

"Fiona, you're not ugly. You just aren't fat."

"I look like a boy!"

That made me laugh out loud.

"Of course you don't. You've got nothing to be ashamed of - you've got a ..."

I searched for the word.

"... very healthy body. You should be proud of it."

I pushed her away and inspected her. God - she was really skinny, but somehow that made her even more beautiful. She had obviously worked hard on her croft and her landlady must have been almost starving her.

"Lie down and I'll give you an enema."

It gave me the opportunity to inspect her genitals too. They looked like a textbook illustration without a layer of fat to conceal the details. Her anus was small and pinkish-brown, already part-open as a reaction to the expected penetration by the enema nozzle. It slipped in without encountering any resistance and she actually relaxed as I seated it comfortably.

It surprised me again that I didn't find the process erotic. It was very much a doctor-patient procedure or perhaps brother-sister, except that I didn't reckon many brothers gave enemas to their sisters. When it was finished, I could clearly see the position of the liquid inside her through the thin skin of her abdomen.

I handed her my coat - it was cold outside - and she hurried out to rid herself of the liquid. When she got back, we both got into our night clothes and drank hot, sweet cocoa - a peculiar British formula, not at all like hot chocolate but very satisfying. And, as the quotation goes, and so to bed.

We continued with our relationship as Christmas approached. Caireann had insisted that we spend the whole festive season in the castle and I was more than happy to accept. We shopped for Christmas presents - Fiona accepted a loan in advance of the return of her rent - and then I drained the Aga down to avoid frost damage and we drove round the long way to the castle. Caireann had provided us with separate rooms and I went along with that but I began to appreciate how Fiona had felt because I too had come to appreciate the quiet companionable pleasure of a shared bed. Being alone was being incomplete.

Christmas was a time of mixed feelings. We made merry, of course, but Robbie's absence hung over us like a grey cloud and when we drank to absent friends we all had tears in our eyes. Hogmanay came and I carefully unpacked my kilt - the Scots are not fools and you simply don't run around in the snows of early January wearing a short skirt and no underwear!

Fiona clapped her hands with joy when she saw me wearing it. Caireann had given her a plaid for Christmas and we made a fine couple in national dress. Fiona was a real Scot too - she knew how to enjoy herself and we danced and drank until everyone collapsed and I had to carry her up to bed. It came very close that night - I stripped her naked and she fell back on to the bed. Desire surged within me and I cast off my clothes as well and joined her under the covers. We lay naked, holding each other, and I think it was only the fact that I had taken so much whisky that an erection was a physical impossibility that saved me totally destroying everything by making passionate love to her.

We were due to stay until Twelfth Night and I have to say that I was still feeling the effects of the festivities the night before we were due to leave and looking forward to being back at the cottage, taking several large enemas and washing the residue of alcohol and rich food out of my system. Fiona obviously felt much the same - except that she didn't wait until we were back home. Instead she asked Caireann if we could both have enemas from the colon tube before we left.

I was both annoyed and disappointed. Fiona didn't know that I had a colon tube at the cottage, so I suppose I didn't have any justification for my attitude and I resolved to tell her about it as soon as we returned.

Caireann was her usual gentle self - I'd never had a colonic from her and I was impressed by the ease with which she worked the tube into position. It was a pleasant episode and one that didn't even give me an erection - maybe I was starting to grow up at last!

Back at my cottage, we fell into a pleasant routine. All inhibitions were gone and we lived a curious asexual life together. I sometimes thought about taking things further, but there was simply too much to lose. We could be friends forever, but my experience with sexual relationships had not exactly been good - every one of them had failed and the longest had only lasted three months. Saturday nights we both took enemas and that was the closest I ever got to sex with Fiona - I could let myself go but never as far as an actual orgasm.

Easter vacation was hell. Fiona went home to see her family and I was frankly jealous to see how much she looked forward to it. What I didn't expect was the crushing loneliness that descended on me as the train pulled out of the station, taking her to catch the Caledonian McBride ferry that made a round trip of the major Hebridean islands.

It wasn't just ordinary loneliness. There is a folk myth attributed to the American Indians which states that when souls are created they break in half with each part inhabiting a different body. The only way that a man can become whole is therefore to find the woman who has the other half of his soul. Myth or not, it accurately described the way that I felt - I was only half a person.

Fiona's spirit was still clinging to the cottage. Her laughter still faintly echoed in the rooms and her smell clung to the bed. Her body still filled items of her clothing and I kept thinking that I saw her out of the corner of my eye.

I tried to console myself with a large-volume enema of water as hot as I dared use. It was boring! All I was doing was pouring water into my rectum - it had no significance beyond that fact. I ached for Fiona's gentle touch, for the way she stroked my ass when I was starting to reach capacity, for her waiting butt when I returned from the outhouse and reached for the pipe.

I could not contemplate a life without her funny face grinning at me and her bony elbows making me yield space in bed. Somehow I managed to endure three whole weeks of utter desolation and I purchased the ring before I met the boat bringing her back.

She rushed down the gangplank and threw her arms around my neck, then she kissed me for the first time. I almost fainted from the intensity of emotion that I felt, but then came the difficult part.

"Fiona."

"Yes?"

"I missed you like hell."

"Me too."

"I don't want to lose you again. Not ever."

"Me too."

"I think we should get married."

I handed her the ring in its box and she smiled happily.

"Me too."

"When?"

"Now."

"We can't get married now!"

She laughed.

"This is Scotland. We can go to Gretna Green and get married over the anvil in the blacksmith's shop. Right now."

"You're kidding! What about getting permission from your parents?"

"You don't need it here once you're sixteen."

"Really?"

"Really."

It wasn't far to Gretna and it was obvious that the place was the centre of a wedding industry - Fiona explained that it was a favourite place for English runaway couples who were having trouble getting parental permission - they just had to cross the border to contract a valid marriage. There was no problem buying a wedding ring and the ceremony was strange but romantic with the conclusion being announced by a ringing blow on the anvil. I was relieved when we crossed the road to the local council office for a second brief ceremony to get an official marriage certificate - I had been wondering just how we were going to prove that we were actually married.

We hurried north again - I wanted to see the Campbell and Caireann to let them know what had happened. They were surprised - shocked in fact - but they recovered fast enough and gave us genuine congratulations and best wishes. We spent our wedding night there after Fiona and Caireann had a long talk and did something with a piece of sponge to stop Fiona becoming pregnant - she would have to get fitted with a diaphragm as soon as possible.

Next day brought despair to our hosts. A black edged telegram delivered by a weeping postman brought the dreadful news that Robbie had been killed in Korea. I'm ashamed to say that I shared only a minor part of their grief and that Fiona and I crept away to the cottage for a prolonged session of passionate lovemaking.

Robbie's body was escorted home the following week by a platoon of the Black Watch. We stayed with them while preparations were made for the burial on the estate. My heart went out to The Campbell as he drank heavily that evening. He looked at me sadly.

"Well, boy, we're a pair, aren't we? You have no father and I have no son."

"Yes Sir."

Fiona was tugging at my arm and I let her drag me outside. She sounded exasperated.

"Don't you know what he was saying?"

"What? About my father?"

She sat me down.

"You know what he wants?"

"No. What?"

"He wants to adopt you - and me, I suppose. He wants you to be his son."

"That's silly. I'm grown up."

She actually shook me to get her point across.

"He has no son now and that means his branch of the family will die out! He wants it to continue through us."

"Oh."

She released her breath in frustration.

"Jason - you have to go back in there and tell him that you will be his son. It's important to him."

"You tell him. I would feel stupid."

So she did. She made a short speech to the Campbells and told them that we would be proud to become their children and to provide them with grandchildren in due course. I was worried if other people would accept the idea, but he just grunted and said that so many Scots died young in past times that the son of a chieftain was whoever he announced to be his son. Then he embraced both of us and called us son and daughter while Caireann wept her approval.

The funeral was moving. It seemed like half of the army was there plus a large contingent of other clan chieftains. I wore Campbell tartan, of course, and Crimond had already made my change of name official. Afterwards we drank and danced in the manner of the Scots.

So that brings me to the present. Fiona and I are both Doctor Campbell now - she runs a busy general practice while I am still training in surgery with Professor Miller. She is going to have to take it easy though - there is a brand new Campbell on the way....