” They entered the place, a pleasant little café of the sort to be met with in the outlying parts of Paris. ’ Her gaze followed the butler, who was moving towards the door. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears. The nuns, they were very good with a whip. Can you imagine how dreadful it must be for them? Most of them arrive here almost penniless. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. “What was that?” she asked sharply. She rang again with the same result. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. You did not learn that in a convent. There was going to be no quarter between these two. FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare.
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