FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. “Yes. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it.
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