*"What would you like for Christmas?" Mrs Deverell asked. Angel had scarcely spoken a word all day, was
lying there, fuming, frustrated by this intrusion. *For once, she did not know what she would like. It was only a matter of time before she would have everything she wanted. As a famous novelist, she could buy herself jewellery, expensive clothes, a fur coat, her own car. All that separated her from such riches was the time it would take to transfer what was in her head to the pages of the exercise-book--time which her mother's unexpected visit was causing her to lose. |