‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. Don’t, don’t say anything now, not anything. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. “I must go. ‘Then he went stark staring crazy, if you ask me. And rather unscrupulous. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. My sister made me over, you know. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair.
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