She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. I wonder what it was. Gerald’s temper flared. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. She's headed for America. Jonathan's threats are not to be sneezed at.
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