I was a student nurse at the time. I was assisting in the delivery of an infant. My specific task was to work with the rather over-excited father-to-be. He was an absolute delight to work withvery solicitous of his wife all throughout, very cooperative with the staff, and very appreciative of the help we were giving the mother-to-be. The background was that after 7 years of marriage, and 2 tragic miscarriages, THIS pregnancy had come to full term, and the childdeliberately they did NOT want to know the genderwas healthy, and both "mom" and "dad" were excited about the upcoming birth. The child finally emerged, the MD held up the child, and "dad" blurted out "It's a girl!! You wanted a girl!!! Oh my God, she's beautiful!!" Then he buried his face on his wife's shoulder and was sobbing for pure joy. The MD quickly put him to workhe was to cut the umbilical cord. "I'm not going to hurt her, am I??" MD assured him no, he wouldn't. He made the cut, and came immediately over to the wife"Honeyare you all right?? I didn't hurt you??"" While the his daughter was being bathed and checked out by the APGAR nurse, he excited called out the various observationsshe as healthy..she was pinking upshe was so beautiful "I can't believe it." When the nurse returned the little girl to "mom", the three of them cuddled together, tears just pouring from his eyesand we in the birthing suite were all getting teary-eyed ourselves. That was 30 years ago, and I still get tears just thinking about what I consider the most beautiful moment of my life, one that I was lucky to share with these two wonderful people. After the end of this story, the parents probably: A. gave the baby up for adoption B. left the baby at the hospital C. not enough information D. took the baby home
D

Trisha dreamed of being a Playboy Bunny since the days she still had buck-teeth and fried egg boobs. She blu-tacked page threes above her bed-head and had me snap topless Polaroids till they littered the floor. She told me to imagine she had 36DDs and peroxide blonde hair. I used to wish like hell that she wasn't my cousin. When she was fifteen Trisha started putting out for the boys in the Kwik-Save car park for a tenner a time. She said she was an entrepreneur, not a prostitute. She started going steady with a kid called Keith. He was a fryer in the fish and chip shop. He had a future and a Ford Cortina. She got a job waitressing and she worked all the hours she could. Keith couldn't handle me and Trisha being as close as we were. Especially the time he caught Trisha bending over me in nothing but a frilly market stall thong while I worked the angles best I could to get a dangle-shot. Next night he took her in the car park woods and doped her up to the eyeballs. He took out a bottle of India ink and told her he would etch the love-heart she'd always wanted. Instead, he safety-pinned the word 'inbred' into her arse. Trisha's step-dad tracked the spits of blood and found her sobbing in the bathroom of their long-stay static. It didn't take him long to slap out the truth. He went straight round to Keith's place with a crow-bar and did enough damage to make sure he'd need more than laser treatment to put things right. Keith wasn't rolling in spare change so Trisha's step-dad took the Cortina as payment in lieu of her getting herself fixed up. Trisha got me to stash the Cortina up the lane at the back of Boyes' farm. Weekend nights, I drove her out to the dual carriageway truck-stop where she found a faster way to make her fortune in the fogged-up cabs. Who was Keith? A. not enough information B. Trisha's brother C. Trisha's cousin D. Trisha's real father
A

(Q).
A long time ago, when humans still lived in cities, on a cold morning near the end of a long, cruel winter, in magnificent Central Park in the middle of magnificent New York City, a young squirrel named Patch was awakened very early by the growls of his empty stomach. A squirrel's home is called a drey. Patch's drey was very comfortable. He lived high up an old oak tree, in a hollowed-out stump of a big branch that had long ago been cut off by humans. The entrance was only just big enough for Patch to squeeze in and out, but the drey itself was spacious, for a squirrel. Patch had lined his drey with dry leaves, grasses and bits of newspaper. It was warm and dry, and on that cold morning he would have liked nothing better than to stay home all day and sleep. But he was so hungry. Hunger filled him like water fills a glass. The cherry and maple trees had not yet started to bud; flowers had not yet begun to grow; the juicy grubs and bugs of spring had not yet emerged; and it had been two days since Patch had found a nut. Imagine how hungry you would feel if you went two whole days without eating, and you may have some idea how Patch felt that morning. Patch poked his head out of the drey into the cold air and shivered as he looked around. Clumps of white, crumbly ice still clung to the ground. Gusts of cold wind shook and rustled the trees' bare branches. The pale and distant sun seemed drained of heat. Patch took a moment to satisfy himself that there were no dangers nearby, no hawk circling above or unleashed dog below. Then he emerged from his drey and began to look for acorns. But what marvels, what miracles, what mysteries are hidden inside those simple words! What is a squirrels home called? A. a drey B. a nest C. a tree D. not enough information
(A).
A