Green Lightning

‘I don’t want a husband!’ Helen was indignant, but Angela wasn’t listening to her.

‘How far is it to Manchester?’ she asked, getting up from her chair. ‘I think we’ll begin this afternoon. I’m sure we can do better than what you’re wearing.’

And so here they were in Manchester, thought Helen wearily, dreading the afternoon ahead. Clothes had never interested her, beyond a natural desire to wear something in which she felt comfortable. Jeans had always provided that comfort, and the prospect of buying more feminine attire had no appeal whatsoever.

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