Sometimes she'd sneak us into some pub, a few times we went to a refuge, an odd time we'd go to her mother's place, but often we'd just wander the streets until she thought he'd be asleep and then we'd go back home.
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Was there ever harmony, fun? It's unbearable so far .
Not that I remember, but surely there must have been some. Perhaps we tend only to be able to recall the bad times because they make more of an impression.