Despite the cold, he planned to spend Christmas sleeping in the jeep, waiting for the tiny shining girl to emerge from the woodpile and dance out the pattern of the coming year across the waste ground by the car. But he’d been misinformed. He heard later she’d made her visitation beside a blue wheely bin three doors down, and that a famous dictator dropped dead as a result. He missed the whole thing. But this was England: you’re never quite there when it happens.
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