by Caro Ramsay
She kept her back turned to him, looking at George, the little runt now talking to Claire, then David, looking as if he was asking about his crutches. Quite the charmer. ‘Oh, he did it all right.’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘He did,’ and she walked off, back towards the gates of the cemetery. As she walked she looked over her left shoulder, catching George Haggerty watching her, watching her walk every step of the way. He lifted both hands, quickly placing them both together palm to palm. To any onlooker he was slapping the cold from his hands, but she knew. Clap clap. The clapping song. Just what he had left playing in the monkey house of horror. Clap clap. She could have sworn he winked at her. She smiled back. Yeah, she thought, game on.
