“The sign shows three beagles cornering a fox. They’re about to pounce and rip it apart. A street sign underneath says WESTWOOD ROAD. Lords and ladies are supposed to be rich, so I was expecting swimming pools and Lamborghinis, but Westwood Road looks pretty normal to me. Normal brick houses, detached or semidetached, with little front gardens and normal cars. The damp sky’s the color of old hankies. Seven magpies fly by. Seven’s good. Mum’s face is inches away from mine, though I’m not sure if ...that’s an angry face or a worried one. “Nathan? Are you even listening?” Mum’s wearing makeup today. That shade of lipstick’s called Morning Lilac but it smells more like Pritt Stick than lilacs. Mum’s face hasn’t gone away, so I say, “What?” “It’s ‘Pardon’ or ‘Excuse me.’ Not ‘What?’ ” “Okay,” I say, which often does the trick. Not today. “Did you hear what I told you?” “ ‘It’s “Pardon” or “Excuse me.” Not “What?” ’ ”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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