He had fallen off when trying to tie down his aluminum paint ladder. There were no mourners. “Gellett,” he called, “just come and clear up a mess, will you? I’ve smashed some things. There are some papers I have to look through to-night—important papers. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. Spurling. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor.
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