God, how old are they now? They must be teenagers. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. Sheppard. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said.
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