‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. I’ve got imagination. ’ Melusine’s heart leapt, raced for a moment, and suddenly dropped again. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. ‘So I shall do so. I did not have to dig deep in my imagination to create the status-obsessed suburban environment of Lucy’s modern milieu. At this place of refuge, situated in the heart of Wapping, near the river-side, he arrived in less than an hour, in a complete state of exhaustion. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. “You cannot give me ultimatums.
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