Paradise Lane
“She bent and pretended to tug Red’s earlobe. ‘Out,’ she whispered. ‘Go and play in the garden. Sally’s going to be fine, I assure you.’ Red stuck out his chest, pushed his shoulders back. What were these folk doing here, anyway? It was none of their business. But, following the furore about the terrible accident, some newspapers, after investigating fully the history of the injured man, had turned Sally’s illness into everyone’s concern. And Prudence Worthington was here with somebody called Mr...s Miles from Bolton. Red’s eyebrows knitted themselves into a long, auburn frown. ‘Are you going to visit Mr Worthington in hospital?’ Prudence awarded the boy a tight smile. ‘No.’ Oh, she might well go, but not yet, not for a while. That all depended on the man’s level of recovery . . .
‘Why?’ He leaned against the window sill. ‘He’s your husband, isn’t he?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And he’s been hurt and he’s got a bad heart.’ As ever. Red felt not the slightest twinge of conscience.MoreLess
‘Why?’ He leaned against the window sill. ‘He’s your husband, isn’t he?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And he’s been hurt and he’s got a bad heart.’ As ever. Red felt not the slightest twinge of conscience.MoreLess
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