A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. “Sheila and Mark McCloskey?” Michelle asked. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. The stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. "I know the house well; by the same token that it's a flash crib.
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