I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane. She struggled not to be afraid. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. Melusine, her breath coming in short bursts, heard a sudden flurry of several heavy footsteps and harsh commands exchanged. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. I said, ‘It is no use your telling me about this walk and pretend I’ve been told about the ball, because you haven’t. He drew her to him and tipped her chin towards him.
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