By Rosamund Lupton
Fanatics of SISTER, learn Rosamund Lupton's subsequent novel, AFTERWARDS.
There is a fireplace and they're in there. they're in there...
Black smoke stains a summer time blue sky. a faculty is on hearth. And one mom, Grace, sees the smoke and rush. She is familiar with her teenage daughter Jenny is within. She runs into the burning development to rescue her.
Afterwards Grace needs to locate the id of the arsonist and shield her young ones from the individual who's nonetheless rationale on destroying them. Afterwards, she needs to struggle the bounds of her actual energy and notice the limitlessness of affection.
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Additional info for Afterwards
And all right, he wasn't Bogey. And I doubt whether Bogey's girls, if he had any, counted themselves lucky, rather the reverse. But he had Bogey's gangly wrists, and Bogey's manic stride and hellbent look about him, and Bogey's haywire mop of sandy hair blown to one side by a prevailing wind and stuck there, and rosy bursts of colour on his upper cheeks. And Bogey's sun-bleached khaki canvas bag, like a wartime gas mask case in old movies, swinging from his shoulder. His spectacles, like Bogey's, doubled the circumference of his faraway blue eyes, switching on and off as he loped towards us under the chandelier.
Flash, but never tell me it wasn't there. I looked The house was gone in a It was there and I saw it.
The sports jacket was of industrial-strength Harris Tweed with iron armpits: push my shoulders forwards and the collar sawed my neck. Backwards, it locked me in a citizen's arrest. An olive-green tie of knitted nylon completed the dismal ensemble. And here, if only for a minute, my spirits plummeted, for I must own straight out to my love of sartorial finery, my relish for impact, colour and display that no doubt springs direct from my Congolese mother's genes. Peek into my briefcase any working day and what will you find tucked among the written depositions, briefings, background papers and deportation orders?
Afterwards by Rosamund Lupton