Like the final chord of a song.”“Shall we get going?” he asked as he checked the bill and offered the waiter his credit card.“Yeah,” replied...Holly, increasingly in need of desert.He opened the door for her and they walked out into the evening air. It was cool but pleasant. Holly was elated with the day, the man on her arm, the promise of the night and squeezed his bicep in appreciation. “Where’s the taxi rank?” she asked, not familiar with the section of the city where they were.“We’re. Suddenly forced to imagine herself in Deb’s place was a profound trauma to her sense of self-identity and worth. The realisation that the beauty that was the foundation of her smug self-satisfaction really was a matter of arbitrary chance that could be reversed had deeply shocked her. Then to discover that the family wealth and status she had enjoyed was actually stolen from the supposed charity case that she barely tolerated and frequently abused on a daily basis added to the image. More

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