And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. 1. "I can do without it," muttered Jack. Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion.
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