I looked at Mum and realized -- -- that she was telling an untruth. A untruth. And I remember thinking in that instant how thrilling and grown-up it must be to say something so untrue, as opposed to the little amateur fibs I was already practiced at -- horrid little apprentice sinner that I was --like the ones about you'd already said your prayers or washed under the fingernails. Yes, I was . I too must learn to say these gorgeous untruths. Imaginary kings and queens would be houseguests when I was older.