For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. ’ ‘I have English a little,’ the girl offered, her voice shaking as she essayed a smile and sank into a curtsy. God, how old are they now? They must be teenagers. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl.
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