On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. “Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. ‘Pig! Pig, a thousand times!’ Running footsteps could be heard now, and she knew that the commotion was bringing the nuns, just as she had hoped. Without the protection of John’s star power, certain denizens of the school found new reserves of energy and turned their attention to her, especially Kate Pfister, a bleach blonde with a face that was a plain sort of pretty who had once dated John. Thames, look the door. Sheppard. Who was he?” “Intriguing.
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