“When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. She was rash and ignorant, absolutely inexperienced. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. Always! I don’t believe there is any strong natural affection at all between parents and growing-up children. Then the storm broke. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting.
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