- I went to the shop on Monday morning.
- My favourite colour is purple.
- The House was creaky, old and damp but I wasn’t scared.
- It was a cold rainy day, they’re safe in their car.
- “He’s my favourite,” Mum said.
- I could picture the smooth oval that was Laura’s face, her neatly pinned chignon, the dress she would have been wearing: a shirtwaist with a small rounded collar, in a sober colour – navy blue or steel grey or hospital – corridor green. penitential colours – less like somethings she’d chosen to put on than like something she’d been locked up in.
- He was such a miserable specimen, the children said, all humps and hollos. He couldn’t play cricket; he poked; he shuffled. “He was a sarcastic brute,” Andrew said. They knew what he liked best – to be ever walking up and down, up and down, with Mr Ramsay, daying who’d done this and who had done that.
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