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She turned her head to each side. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip.
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