It had only taken overnight for the city to turn glistening, crystalline snow to a sad grey sludge that had been swept into small drifts against buildings. People slipped and cursed while drivers took it slowly with their carriages for fear of the animals creating havoc if they fell prey to the icy conditions. It had been both the wettest spring for years and arguably the coldest, with no sign of the harsh weather letting up. Forecasters were predicting that the snow would keep falling through April, and Claire began to wonder how much more punishment the world could take after war, influenza, and now a bitter winter that should be thawing by now. She shivered as she left the Oxford Circus Underground Station, pouring out with fellow commuters from the stale, fuggy warmth below surface to exit and brave the inclement British skies. Claire looked up. The sky was a void of blizzard white but mercifully inactive. She pulled her new coat’s collar closer to her neck.
