You would not have believed me, I know well. ’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. Diane Vorsack tried to disguise the fact that she was livid, her daughter’s buffoonery having driven off the prestigious dinner guests before the after-dinner drinks could be served. They travelled past the few idle sightseers who had braved the uninviting evening to see what the Suffragettes might be doing; they pulled up unchallenged within thirty yards of those coveted portals. She wormed her way past Sebastian, glanced at her mother’s blackened face, her obscenely naked body bulging with yellow and black buboes under the arms and in the groin that oozed stinking fluid.
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