Sowerbutt buried himself
behind the Mirror, reading the letters calling for reprisal air
raids against Berlin. “Teach the Jerries a lesson they won’t forget,” said one.
“I want 100 dead Jerries to make up for my darling Peter,” said another.
“Shop, what shop?” Sowerbutt
said suddenly, registering what Polly had said.The attractive red-head sighed and shook her head. “Sorbay. The shop we’ve opened in Grosvenor Square with your friend’s niece. I’m sure I told you all about it.”
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