By Fay Weldon
This can be a wickedly sharp, history-bending, cosmos-colliding novel from certainly one of Britain's such a lot iconic authors. Meet Frances, Fay's might-have-been more youthful sister, an unreliable narrator who bends heritage and blends universes to create a glowing and prophetic portrait of a as soon as and destiny Britain. It's 2013 and eighty-year-old Frances is hearing the debt creditors pounding at the entrance door of quantity three, Chalcot Crescent. whereas she waits for the bailiffs to renounce and depart, Frances writes. She writes in regards to the boyfriends she borrowed and the husband she stole from Fay. She writes concerning the surprise, the Crunch, the obstacle and the chunk, approximately NUG the nationwide team spirit executive, approximately ration books and nationwide Meat Loaf (suitable for vegetarians). She writes approximately family members secrets...The challenge is that truth and fiction are blurring in Frances' brain. Are faceless assassins attempting to kill her more youthful daughter? Are her grandchildren rather plotting a terrorist coup upstairs? What in the world can NUG have opposed to vegetarians? And simply what makes nationwide Meat Loaf so tasty?
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Additional resources for Chalcot Crescent
And the senior staffer—the name was Richards, but he didn't remember the rest—waved him through to the interview room, where you could deal with Admin without going through decon, if you didn't have long business there. It was a room where you could go in and talk to someone through a clean-screen, or apply for a new breather-cylinder, or fill out paperwork. Left alone there, he sat on one of the two hard plastic chairs, rather than appear to pace or fret: he was onto psychs with pinhole cameras.
He let her give him the second cylinder, then: they still had one in reserve, hers. You could lend a cylinder back and forth if bad came to worse, but you never let both go out together. He was all right and he'd cut it damned close. w. c bu to re he C lic k he k lic C w. " Bianca said. "I'm going with you. We're down to three. " He pocketed the wrappers: you had to turn them in to get new ones, or you filled out forms forever and they charged you with trashing. Same with the ruined cylinder. He was going to hear about it.
McIntire wanted him to be aware, that was all: the legal wars were starting again. They'd want depositions. Maybe another psych exam. Dammit, he was one year short of past all this: one year short of his majority, and they could mandate another psych exam, see whether his best interests were being served… that was the way they always put it. His best interests. Only this time—this time he wasn't exactly within walking distance of his lawyer's office. "They want you to take the next shuttle up," Nunn said.