Of course I'm not going to look through the keyhole. That's something only servants do. I'm going to hide in the bay window.
And, she thought uncomfortably, what would happen if people did not recognize you? Would you know who you were yourself? If tomorrow they started to call her Vanessa or Janet or Elizabeth, would she k...
Charlotte was used to all the marks of war: the shabbiness of things, bad food, shop queues, posters about the war effort, people with worried faces, people dressed in black. She was used to seeing th...
But when she put her fingers into the water and pulled a marble out, it was small by comparison with those still in the glass, and unimportant, too. It was like the difference between what you long fo...
Charlotte looked up doubtfully, wondering why, as she got older, she seemed to be more afraid of things, not less.
Charlotte believed in ghosts, for after all, she had been a kind of ghost herself.
Even her footsteps did not seem to belong to her. The night seized and transformed them, just as it transformed the greenhouses they passed from useful places for growing things into cold night palace...
Where you some particular person because people recognized you as that?