A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. Looking for something, or someone, probably. But they did not know how good she was, how perfect she was. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. ToC Mrs. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. Only old librarians and Shirley Temples say that.
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