20
“So old Red took a swing at Mrs Trumper. Well, good for her, I say.” Clive turned the wheel of his red Singer out of the drive of Marsden Court.
Ruby sat in the front seat with two rugs on her legs, while Pixley sat in back with three. In the rush to leave Marsden Court, neither had had adequate time to dress properly. Snowflakes brushed against the window, playfully spinning and melting away. As they made their way down the drive toward the village, the windscreen wipers squeaked.
Pixley leaned forward from the back seat. “Who is Mrs Trumper?”
“Ghastly woman. Used to torment us as children. Mr Trumper died in the war and Mrs Trumper was never the same after that. I’d feel sorry for her if she weren’t such a bitter, spiteful person. She was particularly mean to Connor when we were c
