“His wizened face and scrawny neck made him look ill, and much older than her, even though they were only two years apart and he never had to do a hand’s turn in here. He was coughing too, and spitting brown phlegm into his handkerchief, in a way that made her feel downright ill. If anything could make her give up the fags, it’d be this. ‘How’s business?’ he asked breathlessly when he’d wiped his mouth. ‘Not good.’ ‘Why? Have you been slacking off?’ ‘I’ve told you before,’ she said with as much ...patience as she could find for him, ‘it’s the mail-order catalogues. People can buy anything they want from them. And they’re not like banks. They give credit to nearly anyone, whatever they put in the small print. I’ve known women run up a thousand pounds on toys and stuff just to give their kids a good Christmas. Oh, my God, it’s disgusting.’ ‘They can’t buy food from catalogues, though, can they, Lil? Nor pay the electric. When the Giro’s run out, they’ve either got to sit in the dark or come to us.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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