The house was filled with the sound of rummaging. It was as if the house was some ramshackle boat, leaking in water, whilst everyone tried to rescue their favourite possession before they had to face ice floes and posterity. Everyone was looking for something desperately important to the progress of the world, crying out random words like ‘small purple bottle’ and ‘my deep brown boots’ so Demeter had retreated to this room for a black coffee and to try out her new reading voice which she hoped now had all the promise of Honor Blackman. She spoke slowly into her hand, blowing warm air onto her palm so that the word ‘savage’ seemed to draw itself , letter by letter across her heart line, lingering into her skin.