Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. Lucy stepped inside. ‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. People running, screaming, hiding. We are not animals. ’ She sipped at the liquid in her glass, but her eyes remained fixed, rather unnervingly, on Gerald. Brown was no fool, and he understood the sudden onus of the other children to share the limelight.
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