On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. “I remember when you walked me home. Gosse took a step or two towards the centre of the room. Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous.
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