She spoke to Benjii, as he slept in his carriage, with his scarred hand close to his face. “What do you think? I haven’t told Daddy I know his secret, and I don’t believe Katy has said anything either. We all like to play a grown-up game of pretend. If I had some wine, it would make it easier, wouldn’t it? No gin, though. I won’t do that again.”
The shop, with its high, blanked-out windows, squatted next to the narrow pavement. Sometimes it looked like a beast, ready to spring out at her; other times like a trusted friend, waiting to provide solace. Today she stopped as she reached the side of the building, determined not to pass by until she had made up her mind once and for all. Voices whispered in her mind, back and forth.
Benjii needs a proper mother, not a stinking sot.
You’ll neve
