CHAPTER FOUR
LONDON, SUNDAY MARCH 12 1944
A North London street on Sunday morning. Dull, somewhat grey all around with a swirl of fog. The fog is lifting, though, dispersing slowly, curling upwards to a drab, overcast sky. It is a dry day, quite warm for the most part, with only the damp chill of the remaining fog patches to hinder. Always quiet on Sunday mornings, it seems quieter than usual on this greyish day. It is partly the lack of people in the street that makes the atmosphere seem so melancholic. That and the dull, grey brickwork of the buildings, the taped windows of the shops and offices. The dust from recent bombings that hangs in the air.
A trolleybus glides to a halt at the request stop and Elsie alights from the platform. She wears a beige coloured coat over her colourful
