Mr Slippy & Mr Whippy
Story from Blushes 15 ‘It’s so good of you to come and pick her up, Mr Marley. I so hate to send her on the train alone because one does hear such awful things nowadays, and really I hadn’t time to drive her over myself. My plane’s at three and really…’ Sylvia Harmsworth’s explanations tailed off as she ushered her visitor in. She was in her thirties, 38 to be exact, though she wouldn’t thank you for reminding her of this. Still attractive, if a trifle full-blown, but with that slightly desperate look in the big brown eyes at times, which said: Every day I am a day older and I don’t know what to do about it. The daughter’s equally big brown eyes would not, of course, be saying that for years and years yet. At present, at 17, they were looking at the visitor with a tinge of apprehension. Charlotte hadn’t met Mr Marley before and she was going to spend two weeks with him. Two weeks in which mummy could recover from life’s