To feel so bereft, so disorientated for the loss of one’s ex-wife’s mother verges on the eccentric, I suppose, but I loved her; for all her manifold faults, I loved her. The day before she died I felt both oppressed and depressed and London sweltered in a grey, sticky heat...
Tib had a walk every day, he expected it; but, used to running wild on Hampstead Heath, he had grown bored with being marched round the lanes on a lead — and for that matter, Bet had grown bored with it too. On being applied to, Christine Barnet suggested the wood. It belonged, she said, to the W...