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Keeping quiet.

Day 7. Sunday.

I’ve got myself in a corner of my own making. Should I go to the House as though nothing had happened? Was I expected there on a Sunday? Should I go to the café? It was another beautiful day. There would be enough work, but maybe Sid and I had burned our bridges there, too. Should I stay in bed and say, ‘Sod the lot of them?’

Then I had a genial idea. Go to church!

I hadn’t been to church since being chucked out of Brownies for swearing, and when Brown Owl chastised me, I blasphemed, which was obviously much worse than the F-word. I knew enough about Vera’s habits to know she always went to church when she was ‘at home’.

I imagined asking Sid.

'Is it tactically better to be early or late for church?'

'You never go to church. What’s got into you? But late is better.'

'It’s an opportunit

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