Tom Feather woke in Stoneyfield flats with a pain in his shoulders and a stiff neck… The armchair had not been at all comfortable. He got some cold orange juice from the fridge, and fixed a flower to the glass with some sticky tape. He marched straight into the bedroom. ‘Happy New Year to the most beautiful, saintly and forgiving woman in the world,’ he said. Marcella woke and rubbed her eyes.’ I’m not saintly and forgiving, I’m furious with you,’ she began. ‘But you haven’t denied that you are beautiful, and I have totally forgiven you,’ he said happily. ‘What do you mean? There was nothing to forgive me for.’ She was very indignant indeed. ‘Quite right, which is why we will say no more about it. I should thank you instead, because last night I found the premises.’ ‘You what?’ ‘I know it’s all due to you: if you hadn’t behaved so badly and forced me to leave that party, I’d never have found the place.
