\"What did you think of Poltergeist, John?\" She tried to engage him in conversation as Mark's music blared from the van's stereo system. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. You get the idea. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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