Paddington Quotes

I'm not a criminal,” said Paddington, hotly. “I'm a bear!

It's nice having a bear about the house.

Please look after this bear.

The truth is people are an extraordinary mixture of heroism and cowardice.

Things are always happening to me. I’m that sort of bear.

Mister?” she snapped. “Paddington?” he shot back.

True to the precepts handed down to her by her mother and grandmother—to wit: that a true lady can neither be shocked nor surprised—Miss Marple merely raised her eyebrows and shook her head,

Don’t go,” said Cedric. “Murder has made you practically one of the family.

Pünd remembered their first case together when Fraser had failed to notice that his travelling companion, on the three-fifty train from Paddington, was actually dead.

I never feel lonely if I've got a book...

I think, my dear, we won't talk any more about murder during tea. Such an unpleasant subject.

Like many other who have lived long in a great capital, she had strong feelings about the various railway termini. They are our gates to the glorious and unknown. Through them we pass out into adventure and sunshine, to them, alas! we return. In Paddington all Cornwall is latent and the remoter west; down the inclines of Liverpool Street lie fenlands and the illimitable Broads; Scotland is through the pylons of Euston; Wessex behind the poised chaos of Waterloo. Italians realize this, as is natural; those of them who are so unfortunate as to serve as waiters in Berlin call the Anhalt Bahnhof the Stazione d’Italia, because by it they must return to their homes. And he is a chilly Londoner who does not endow his stations with some personality, and extend to them, however shyly, the emotions of fear and love.

Paddington Station. With its spacious arches and exuberant iron lacework, Mr. Brunel’s pride and joy had persuaded me that in spite of their reputation for stodginess, engineers were in possession of truly flamboyant imaginations.

A while back I heard bears have to stick leaves up their arse to stop ants crawling up there and biting them! I know the world is getting overpopulated but it isn’t that crowded that things have to live up an arse. No wonder Paddington Bear left Peru for London. When you’ve got bears wanting to leave the country it makes me wonder what I’m doing here.

Oh well, bears will be bears,” said Mr Brown.

We have replaced the religious passions with Christian social virtues, and to talk of Man’s triumph in terms of mercy, charity, or compassion is as senseless as expecting to find a Christ standing his turn of beers in a Paddington public house.

She could not fail to observe that a life of academic distinction was singularly ill rewarded. She had no desire whatever to teach and she took pleasure in contacts with minds much less brilliant than her own. In short, she had a taste for people, all sorts of people—and not the same people the whole time.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And until tonight I had always felt that there was a lot in it. I had never scorned a woman myself, but Pongo Twistleton once scorned an aunt of his, flatly refusing to meet her son Gerald at Paddington and give him lunch and see him off to school at Waterloo, and he never heard the end of it.

Nell was like a witch. Her long silvery hair rolled into a bun on the back of her head, the narrow wooden house on the hillside in Paddington, with its peeling lemon-yellow paint and overgrown garden, the neighborhood cats that followed her everywhere. The way she had of fixing her eyes so straight on you, as if she might be about to cast a spell.

All this red tape and form-filling. That’s what comes of a bureaucratic state. Can’t go where you like and do as you please anymore! Somebody’s always asking questions.

Everybody in St. Mary Mead knew Miss Marple; fluffy and dithery in appearance, but inwardly as sharp and as shrewd as they make them.

I daresay you'll be wanting some marmalade.

I suppose,” she said to Paddington as they stepped on the escalator, “we ought really to carry you. It says you’re supposed to carry dogs, but it doesn’t say anything about bears.

Post Horses and Conveyances of every description may be ordered by the electric telegraph to be in readiness on the arrival of a train, at either Paddington or Slough Station.

Mr. and Mrs. Brown first met Paddington on a railway platform. In fact, that was how he came to have such an unusual name for a bear, for Paddington was the name of the station.

And to be hauled out, in a windowless room Somewhere near Paddington to Radio 5 Live? To be born purple, your hair scrambled like eggs? I have never heard a person so incredulous with rage.

And that,” Peter said with a smile once again directed at his brother, “says more than you may think. I rather miss the days when Paddington and Pooh bears walked about.” “And picnics were to be had,” Little Dan added.

Paeonies,” said Miss Marple as she rose from table, “are most unaccountable. Either they do—or they don’t do. But if they do establish themselves, they are with you for life, so to speak, and really most beautiful varieties nowadays.

Lo malo es que las personas son insaciables. Algunas personas. Muchas veces, así es como empieza todo. No se empieza con el asesinato, con el deseo de cometerlo, ni siquiera pensándolo. Se empieza siendo, sencillamente, avaricioso, queriendo tener más de lo que se ha de recibir.

strong-room

There was such a hullabaloo going on it was difficult to write up the notes in his scrapbook.

The Browns were holding a council of war in the dining room, and Mr. Brown was fighting a losing battle.

searched her bag for the ticket that would enable her to

PLEASE LOOK AFTER THIS BEAR. THANK YOU.

Yes, Watkins, I’m sure you’re hot on the trail and definitely seconds away from finding the murderer as you continue to investigate the dirt on the floor that’s obviously come from your own shoes.

My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long gray travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap.

Jennifer had exactly five pounds, six shillings, and fourpence halfpenny when she left No. 7 Maple Street. She lugged her two suitcases along with her into various buses, and arrived at Paddington with three-quarters of an hour to wait before the twelve o’clock train should bear her away from London forever. Thirty-two shillings and sixpence of her capital went on her third-class ticket, and three shillings more on a cup of coffee, two rashers of bacon, and a banana, for she had eaten no breakfast. During this wait she had time to think over her crazy flight from the boardinghouse. It had been her home since she was six years old, and she had left her mother without one pang of regret. “I must be terribly unnatural,” thought Jennifer sadly. “But it can’t be helped. I was probably born without a heart; I believe some people are.” She

Hang care!' exclaimed he. 'This is, a delicious evening; the wine has a finer relish here than in the house, and the song is more exciting and melodious under the tranquil sky than in the close room, where sound is stifled. Come, let us have a bacchanalian chant - let us, with old Sir Toby, make the welkin dance, and rouse the night-owl with a catch. I am right merry. Pass the bottle, and tune your voices - a catch, a catch! The lights will be here anon.' ("The Haunted House Of Paddington")

It's nothing special to be real...The world is full of people...They're all real, but in a hundred years, how many do you think will be remembered? Barely any. But if I say the names Peter Pan, Matilda, Pippi Longstocking, Alice, Oliver Twist, Eeyore or Paddington Bear, you know exactly who I mean, don't you? Some them more than a hundred years old. None of them real, but each of them remembered. Cherished. Loved. So loved. That's real. That's more real than anything - to exist in people's hearts is to live forever.

When Miss Marple uttered the word 'gentlemen' she always gave it its full Victorian flavour—an echo from an era actually before her own time. You were conscious at once of dashing full-blooded (and probably whiskered) males, sometimes wicked, but always gallant.

It had all come to me at Paddington station, the extraordinary moment that all of them must have felt--Poirot, Holmes, Wimsey, Marple, Morse--but which their authors had never fully explained. What was it like, for them? A slow process, like constructing a jigsaw? Or did it come in a rush, one last turn in a toy kaleidoscope when all the colours and shapes tumbled and twisted into each other, forming a recognizable image? That was what had happened to me. The truth had been there. But it had taken a final nudge for me to see it, all of it.

When a baronet is discovered behind a bush in the park with a guardsman, or a minister of the crown is caught creeping out of a country with his socks stuffed full of bank notes and a woman not his wife ten paces behind, or a public person is revealed disporting himself with a couple of tarts and a teddy bear in West Paddington, they complain to the press that the outcry is hypocritical and that everyone would like to do what they were doing if only they had the chance. They regard the law as an instrument of envy, like nationalization and death duties.

he didn’t think much of the ticket. He examined carefully the piece of green cardboard which he held in his paw. “It doesn’t seem much to get for eighty pence,” he said. After all the lovely whirring and clanking noises the ticket machine had made, it did seem disappointing. He’d expected much more for his money.

The face towels had been excellent value and just what Margaret wanted, the space gun for Robby and the rabbit for Jean were highly satisfactory, and that evening coatee was just the thing she herself needed, warm but dressy. The pullover for Hector, too…her mind dwelt with approval on the soundness of her purchases.

Coal smuts fly past and the train ploughs forwards, fire-bellied and smoke-spitting, a mystery of steam pressure and pistons, a miracle of gauges. The engine is a painted comet, its tail rattling behind with every class of passenger hanging on. Many undertake this mode of transportation with nervous trepidation, as well they might; it is well known that regular rail travel contributes to the premature ageing of passengers. Unnatural speed and the rapid travelling of distances have a baleful effect on the organs. Hurrying can prove fatal, notably when combined with suet-based meals, improving spirits and fine tobaccos. The worst offender: the new-built, gas-lit, steam-hauled carriages of Hades which will convey a passenger between Paddington and Farringdon under the very ground of the metropolis. According to reports miscellaneous, the passenger (smoke-blinded, nerve-rattled, near-suffocated) will emerge from the experience variously six months to five years older.

Later, this desire will invade and overwhelm me. It will begin, in the classic way, with an urge to travel to new places, destinations selected from maps and picture postcards. I will take trains, boats, planes, I will embrace Europe, discover London, a youth hostel next to Paddington Station, a Bronski Beat concert, thrift stores, the speakers of Hyde Park, beer gardens, darts, tawdry nights, Rome, walks among the ruins, finding shelter under the umbrella pines, tossing coins into fountains, watching boys with slicked-back hair whistle at passing girls. Barcelona, drunken wanderings along La Rambla and accidental meetings late on the waterfront. Lisbon and the sadness that’s inevitable before such faded splendor. Amsterdam with her mesmerizing volutes and red neon. All the things you do when you’re twenty years old. The desire for constant movement will come after, the impossibility of staying in one place, the hatred of the roots that hold you there, Doesn’t matter where you go, just change the scenery,

I’m scared, but also debating whether to try and whack her with my Chloé Paddington bag – thank goodness for the heavy padlock – and try to make a run for it in my gorgeous but impractical brown suede, five-inch Marc by Marc Jacobs boots. Luckily, I spy Obélix – lucky because my boots were made more for display purposes than running footwear. Obviously the crazy woman is wearing flat, sensible, Clarks-looking shoes in dependable black. Yuck. That’s not the point though. The point is she’d catch me in seconds and I’d probably damage my boots in the process.

exclusiva a la literatura desde 1965, casi una década después de comprar el peluche que le cambiaría la vida. Con el estreno del filme, la editorial Noguer (Planeta) relanza Un oso llamado Paddington y Nuevas aventuras de Paddington

I’d like to leave all my interest in, please,” explained Paddington. “In case it rains.” “Well,” said the man in a superior tone of voice as he made some calculations on a piece of paper. “I’m afraid you won’t keep very dry on this. It only comes to ten pence.” “What!” exclaimed Paddington, hardly able to believe his ears. “Ten pence! I don’t think that’s very interesting.” “Interest isn’t the same thing as interesting,” said the man. “Not the same thing at all.” He tried hard to think of some way of explaining matters for he wasn’t used to dealing with bears and he had a feeling that Paddington was going to be one of his more difficult customers. “It’s… it’s something we give you for letting us borrow your money,” he said. “The longer you leave it in the more you get.” “Well, my money’s been in since just after Christmas,” exclaimed Paddington. “That’s nearly six months.” “Ten pence,” said the man firmly.

Luckily he had found a piece of cloth on the balcony outside Mr Brown’s room and so he’d been able to clean off the worst of the dirt before getting down to the important job of taking it to pieces and polishing it.

Beau Brummel

PADDINGTON BUYS A SHARE

A VISIT TO THE STOCK EXCHANGE

They can’t,” said Jonathan. “The Dame is always played by a man.” “And the Principal Boy is always a girl,” agreed Judy. “It’s traditional.” “I don’t see why,” insisted Paddington.

PADDINGTON STEPS OUT

MRS BROWN STARED at Paddington in amazement. “Harold Price wants you to be an usher at his wedding?” she repeated. “Are you sure?

Then, some years ago, on a promotional tour in Australia, I had to carry a stuffed Paddington everywhere I went. Each time I boarded a plane I knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be asked up to the flight deck. On one occasion I left him up there, strapped into a spare bucket seat while the crew explained the controls. A little later on I received a second message asking if I would mind him staying up there because he wanted to practise landing the plane. I didn’t tell the other passengers!

When Diana was unable to visit, she telephoned the apartment to check on her friend’s condition. On her 30th birthday she wore a gold bracelet which Adrian had given to her as a sign of their affection and solidarity. Nevertheless, Diana’s quiet and longstanding commitment to be with Adrian when he died almost foundered. In August his condition worsened and doctors advised that he should be transferred to a private room at St Mary’s Hospital, Paddington where he could be treated more effectively. However Diana had to go on a holiday cruise in the Mediterranean with her family on board a yacht owned by the Greek millionaire John Latsis. Provisional plans were made to fly her from the boat by helicopter to a private plane so that she could be with her friend at the end. Before she left, Diana visited Adrian in his home. “I’ll hang on for you,” he told her. With those words emblazoned on her heart, she flew to Italy, ticking off the hours until she could return. As soon as she disembarked from the royal flight jet she drove straight to St Mary’s Hospital. Angela recalls: “Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was Diana. I flung my arms around her and took her into the room to see Adrian. She was still dressed in a T-shirt and sporting a sun tan. It was wonderful for Adrian to see her like that.” She eventually went home to Kensington Palace but returned the following day with all kinds of goodies. Her chef Mervyn Wycherley had packed a large picnic hamper for Angela while Prince William walked into the room almost dwarfed by his present of a large jasmine plant from the Highgrove greenhouses. Diana’s decision to bring William was carefully calculated. By then Adrian was off all medication and very much at peace with himself. “Diana would not have brought her son if Adrian’s appearance had been upsetting,” says Angela. On his way home, William asked his mother: “If Adrian starts to die when I’m at school will you tell me so that I can be there.

Things aren’t always

[Paddington] looked up to see that Mrs Brown had been joined by a little girl, with laughing blue eyes and long, fair hair.

on 21 June 1982, Diana gave birth to William in St Mary’s Hospital, Paddington. He was two weeks early. Prince Charles watched the birth, the first royal father to do so. Whatever the bad feelings of the past few months, this was an undeniably happy and bonding moment, even

Lo malo es que las personas son insaciables. Algunas personas. Muchas veces, así es como empieza todo. No se empieza con el asesinato, con el deseo de cometerlo, ni siquiera pensándolo. Se empieza siendo, sencillamente, avaricioso, queriendo teniendo más de lo que se ha de recibir.

Secretly, his employers checked for a police record. He was David Llewellyn-Jones, born in Paddington, London,

Her mind went back to the scene she had witnessed. Horrible, quite horrible… She was a strong-nerved woman, but she shivered. What a strange—what a fantastic thing to happen to her, Elspeth McGillicuddy! If the blind of the carriage had not happened to fly up… But that, of course, was Providence. Providence had willed that she, Elspeth McGillicuddy, should be a witness of the crime. Her lips set grimly.

One wants to know,” said Miss Marple, “what really happened.” “She was killed.” “Yes, but who killed her, and why, and what happened to her body? Where is it now?” “That’s the business of the police to find out.

The intelligent people on whose intelligence she could rely were all far too busy. Not only had they all got jobs of varying importance, their leisure hours were usually apportioned long beforehand. The unintelligent who had time on their hands were simply, Miss Marple decided, no good.

I shall interview her all right. She must be cracked.” Lucy forbore to point out that to be proved right is not really a proof of mental incapacity.

Madame Egloff, who stood, hands held out in front of her, expressing her admiration. ‘Please make the alterations, Madame, and have the gowns sent round to Brown’s Hotel by the weekend.’ Half an hour later, when they left Madame Egloff’s salon, Sophie had been dressed and pinned into each of the garments Matty had chosen, and promises had been made to deliver the clothes to the hotel by Saturday morning at the latest. * Monday morning saw them at Paddington Station being conducted to a private compartment on the train. Sophie had never travelled in such style before, being more used to the uncomfortable rowdiness of a third-class carriage, but Matty had insisted. ‘I always travel this way,’ she said. ‘The journey is quite tiring enough without being crammed in next to crying children and shrill women.’ Having directed the porter to place their luggage in the guard’s van, Matty had settled herself into their compartment with a copy of the new Murray’s Magazine, which she had bought from a news-stand at the station. Beside her on the seat was a hamper, provided by Brown’s, with the food and drink they would need for the journey. As the train drew out of the station and started its long journey west, Sophie felt keyed up with anxious anticipation and was grateful for the comforting presence of Hannah, ensconced on the other side of the compartment. Dressed in her new plaid travelling dress, with a matching hat perched on her head, Sophie knew she was a different person from the one who had sat at her dying mother’s bedside, holding her hand. No longer a young girl on the brink of adulthood... but who? There had been too much change in her life in the past weeks that she still had to come to terms with. Who am I? she wondered. I don’t feel like me! She looked across at Hannah, so familiar, so safe, huddled in a corner, her eyes shut as she dozed, and Sophie felt a wave of affection flood through her. Dear Hannah, she thought, I’m so glad you came too. When they had left Madame Egloff, Matty had taken Sophie for afternoon tea at Brown’s. Looking round the famous tea room, with its panelled walls, its alcoved fireplace and its windows giving onto Albemarle Street, Sophie

❑  The Murder at the Vicarage [1930] ❑  The Thirteen Problems (Short Story Collection) [1932] ❑  Miss Marple’s Final Cases (Short Story Collection) [1979] ❑  The Body in the Library [1942] ❑ The Moving Finger [1942] ❑ Sleeping Murder [1976] ❑ A Murder Is Announced [1950] ❑  They Do It with Mirrors [1952] ❑  A Pocket Full of Rye [1953] ❑ “Greenshaw’s Folly” [1956] ❑ 4.50 from Paddington [1957] ❑  The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side [1962] ❑ A Caribbean Mystery [1964] ❑ At Bertram’s Hotel [1965] ❑ Nemesis [1971] Although published in 1976, Sleeping Murder was written during World War II and portrays a sprightlier Miss Marple than Nemesis.

There are doubtless certain unworldly people who are indifferent to money. I myself have never met one.

Paddington stares.

Have you seen Paddington 2? he asked. It’s a goddamned masterpiece, I swear to you.

I have been wondering—whether it might perhaps be all much simpler than we suppose. Murders so often are quite simple—with an obvious rather sordid motive….

His eye swept her masculine-looking pepper-and-salt tweed coat disparagingly.

Mrs. McGillicuddy, who had said so, did not argue the point. She was sadly out of breath.

that a true lady can neither be shocked nor surprised—Miss Marple merely raised her eyebrows and shook her head,

The two ladies had supper, discussing, as they ate, various aspects of life as lived in the village of St. Mary Mead. Miss Marple commented on the general distrust of the new organist, related the recent scandal about the chemist’s wife, and touched on the hostility between the schoolmistress and the village institute. They then discussed Miss Marple’s and Mrs. McGillicuddy’s gardens.

I did not hear you. I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.

And if Dr. Haydock had strictly forbidden her to do practical gardening he would hardly approve of her starting out to track down a murderer.

It is simply because so many of your colleagues are imbéciles

The Browns’ house at number thirty-two Windsor Gardens was unusually quiet. It was a warm summer day, and all the family, with the exception of Paddington, who had mysteriously disappeared shortly after lunch, were sitting on the veranda enjoying the afternoon sun. Apart from the faint rustle of paper as Mr. Brown turned the pages of an enormous book and the click of Mrs. Brown’s knitting needles, the only sound came from Mrs. Bird, their housekeeper, as she prepared the tea things.

Yes,' said Miss Marple. 'I had thought of that.' 'I suppose you think of everything!' said Lucy bitterly. 'Well, dear, one has to really.

Paddington took a deep breath and gave the assistant a hard stare. It was one of the extra special hard ones which his Aunt Lucy had taught him and which he kept for emergencies.

The Miss Marple Reading List We recommend reading the Miss Marple novels and short stories in the following order: ❑ The Murder at the Vicarage [1930] ❑ The Thirteen Problems (Short Story Collection) [1932] ❑ Miss Marple’s Final Cases (Short Story Collection) [1979] ❑ The Body in the Library [1942] ❑ The Moving Finger [1942] ❑ Sleeping Murder [1976] ❑ A Murder Is Announced [1950] ❑ They Do It with Mirrors [1952] ❑ A Pocket Full of Rye [1953] ❑ “Greenshaw’s Folly” [1956] ❑ 4.50 from Paddington [1957] ❑ The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side [1962] ❑ A Caribbean Mystery [1964] ❑ At Bertram’s Hotel [1965] ❑ Nemesis [1971]

E' un mondo difficile. Non trovate anche voi? Riuscire a orientarsi, e cavarsela. Quando non si è stati preparati a farlo.

Another milestone for the telegraph was when it was used to apprehend Fiddler Dick, a notorious pickpocket, and his gang. Their modus operandi involved robbing the crowds at a busy railway station and then escaping from the scene by train. Before the telegraph, there was no way to send information faster than a speeding train, so their getaway was assured. However, the presence of the telegraph alongside the Paddington-Slough line meant it was now possible to alert the police at the other end before the train’s arrival.

7. Có một tấm ảnh của mẹ chưa ai từng nhìn thấy Vào mùa thu, mẹ tôi trở lại Anh để bắt đầu học đại học. Cái túi của bà đầy những cát từ nơi thấp nhấp trên Trái đất. Mẹ nặng 47 cân. Có một câu chuyện thi thoảng mẹ kể, trên chuyến tàu từ ga Paddington tới Oxford, mẹ gặp một người thợ chụp ảnh hầu như mù hẳn. Ông đeo kính đen, ông bảo rằng võng mạc bị hỏng một thập kỷ trước, trong một chuyến tới Nam Cực. Bộ vest của ông được là phẳng phiu đến độ hoàn hảo, ông đặt chiếc máy ảnh trong lòng. Ông nói rằng giờ ông nhìn thế giới khác đi, nó không hẳn đã xấu. Ông hỏi liệu có thể chụp mẹ một kiểu. Khi ông nâng máy ảnh và ngắm qua ống kính, mẹ hỏi ông thấy gì. “Cũng vẫn thứ tôi luôn thấy,” ông nói. “Là gì?” “Một vệt mờ mờ,” ông nói. “Vậy tại sao ông làm việc này?” mẹ hỏi. “Nhỡ đâu đôi mắt tôi có thể lành lại,” người thợ ảnh nói. “khi đó tôi sẽ biết tôi đã thấy gì những lâu nay.” Trong lòng mẹ tôi có một chiếc túi giấy màu nâu đựng bánh sandwich gan băm mà bà ngoại đã làm cho. Mẹ mời ông thợ ảnh gần như mù ăn chiếc bánh sandwich. “Cô không đói à?” ông ấy hỏi. Mẹ bảo mình có đói, nhưng chưa bao giờ mẹ nói với bà ngoại rằng mẹ ghét gan băm, rốt cuộc thành ra quá muộn, không thể nói với bà nữa vì đã không nói suốt nhiều năm rồi. Tàu chạy vào ga Oxford, mẹ tôi xuống tàu, để lại phía sau một dải cát. Tôi biết trong câu chuyện này ẩn chứa một bài học, nhưng tôi không biết đó là gì.

He next made arrangements to patent his bridge, and to construct at Rotherham the large model of it exhibited on Paddington Green, London.

I was glad, though, for those boys whom we helped to get places at Paddington Coll e of Education. Eighteen months later one boy got his two ' A' levels. And to think that when I first met him his greatest ambition was to kill a white policeman!

pancakes

pored

It is highly unlikely that a man in Browning’s position would come about having a pen of that sort unless he was in one of the branches and took it back with him inadvertently.

That is the other reason why I believe it is this second person who is the true murderer now.

for Biscuit, as well as one of those tubes with the ball inside for him to play with also.

Jake and I sat at a table in a corner by the window, looking out to the road, on a couple of dark stools.

together the puzzle.

taken to an organic fair-trade, gluten-free, lactose-free, refined-sugar-free vegan café that smelled like ginger, eucalyptus oil and coffee beans.

There's a tiny wee shop in Paddington Where they serve cups of tea with a lamington With a friend I went there He said it's not fair They make me too fat to play badminton

Being with so many people felt right, and afterward at the wake thrown by Nathan's company at a huge bar in Paddington overlooking the canal, with seats outside and bottomless champagne and a playlist put together by Nathan's best friends and the children dashing about in summer clothes, and lively urgent chatter and laughter and people looking their high summer best, it felt almost as if Nathan would appear at any moment, in his element, loving every second, and when he didn't appear it felt as though maybe he was at home waiting for her, and when he as not at home waiting for her it felt as though maybe he was away on a boys' trip and when, ten days after the funeral, he is still not home, it is then and only then that Alix collapses. She lies on her bed, the day before Eliza's first day at secondary school, wearing her artichoke dress and clutching a pillow, arching and un-arching her back as spasms and agonized crying rack her body at the realization of what she has lost.

She cast a dazed and sad eye over the many things the airport offered to her as she left. Surely, she couldn't depart England without a bottle of whisky, a set of china teacups, a Paddington Bear, a biography of some grim-looking sportsdude, an overpriced purse, a shawl, several bottles of perfume ... "Did people come to the airport just to set their money on fire? "There were more practical offerings as well. Every other shop offered candy, water, luggage tags, and toothbrushes. Stuff you might have forgotten or need on the way.