She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. “Ohmigod, Katy, you fucking killed her!” A trio of girls sniggered. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. There will be long stretches of idleness, heat, and enervation; and always the odour of drying coconut. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck.
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