She was blonde with close-cropped hair, a bad complexion, and anexpression saying Don't mess with me'. I smiledbut made no reply, instead taking myself to the Granddad Room andclosing the door behind me. Good woman, there. I'll walk him, Malcolm.
She'd covered that hair with a scarf the momentshe'd stepped from her cottage, but during their walk the scarf hadloosened an Well, she was his mum. He'd seen the subsequentexplanations put forth by the young man's publicity machine: exhaustionafter a killing schedule of concerts in the spring. Heknew what could happen when one cooperated, blithely believing thatdoing one's civic duty was synonymous with demonstrating one'sguilelessness.
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