Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. ’ ‘And was not she put out?’ demanded Miss Froxfield with a tinkling laugh. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. ‘Still more would I be so if he had come himself to tell me this. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. D.
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