There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. She forced herself not to think of John. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. She hated living like that. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. ‘The cat’s foot, Hilary.
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