Around 5 p.m. on Friday, 14th August 1970. On the train from Le Havre to Paris
...and with another startling lunge he actually manages to connect his cane with the little man’s shoulder, quite a vicious blow.
The little man screams. Lianna screams. The attacker is still roaring. And over it all, in dulcet tones as penetrating as any sergeant-major’s on the parade ground “Charlie, what have you done now?” blares out the Glasgow-accented voice of the grey-haired woman.
I see it all in a flash. I’m not going to get any cream cakes, and bringing Lianna to Paris has been a mistake.
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