“The hospital foyer was huge and cold. I used to love him. I adored that boy. But what’s he turned into? A thug. A – fascist. Worse than Dad, without Dad’s excuses. She wasn’t quite ready to go out into the dark and struggle through the wind across the wild black car park. She sank down on to an empty seat, picked up a magazine and stared at it blindly. When her focus returned, she was looking at furs. Two pages of red and blond winter furs. ‘There are the whingers and the whiners, yes. There ar...e the dowdies, the dated, the dull … And there’s you. Daring to be a babe. Ready for fun. Purring for fur … You, babelicious in the new seal-skin …’ The heart-shaped face of the journalist looked all of seventeen years old, and brainless. Still the furs were pretty, thought Shirley. Soft. Elroy might like to see me in furs … But she knew it was just a fantasy. No one wore furs. It just wasn’t done. No one, that is, except rich foreign women you saw getting out of cabs with dark glasses and fussy expensive designer handbags.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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