Chapter Fourteen
It was 5.00 o’clock when George arrived at his sister’s house. He walked in from the cold to a dram, a plate of curry and his sister, Margaret sitting by the fire with a grim ‘What ARE you up to’ look on her face.
‘That was quick,’ she said. ‘What’s the hurry? Beatrice?’
He said nothing but slipped his shoes off, poked the fire and took a sip of his dram.
‘What car is it this time?’
‘Volvo.’
‘Are they not indestructible?’
‘Nothing is indestructible in her hands!’
‘I take it she’ll not know you’re coming then?’
‘No, but this time I am going to win!’ he said.
‘If Beatrice was going to marry you, she’d have done so by now,’ said Margaret, placing a bottle of whisky by George’s side.
‘Marry? Who’s talking about marrying? We are going to live in sin,’ he said, and po
