I sussed out the denouement about three quarters of the way through but continued to enjoy watching the story unfold, and unravel. It was cleverly plotted, though there were no hints that Linda was cleverer than she appeared on the surface.
Here's a nice quote with the postman in (though, what the fuck, postmen rarely arrive after breakfast, but they always do in stories):
"The next day, I had an eye open for the postman after breakfast, wondering if he'd bring me something else. I kept getting up from my crossword and watching him through the window, and he didn't disappoint. He marched down the path with something plugged into his ear, chatting away to fresh air like people do, and a great pile of things in his arms. Everything was for us. Except they weren't for us at all, they were for Rebecca Finch. Two big catalogues this time, one all about home furnishings and the other filled with different kinds of makeup. I'd never bothered much with makeup, but looking at the befores and afters on the front made me wonder if it was worth having a rethink, because it appeared as though you could turn yourself into a whole new person if you put your mind to it. I shouldn't have opened them, but it didn't feel quite as bad if you'd already done it before, which is a bit like being a serial killer, I suppose." (p.29)
Stay safe. Be kind. Recycle those catalogues.
p.s. the osprey are back
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