Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. She swallowed hard. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. Lucy went hunting on a Thursday night. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. ‘Certainly I can prove it.
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