The women found the aroma of printer’s ink strangely attractive. It meant words and thoughts and emotions barely held in check by the ink that bound...them to the page.Heathcoate himself was the muscle behind the operation. One glance at the giant press with its central screw and plates and the long rod Master Merle inserted for additional leverage was sufficient to explain his overdeveloped shoulders and arms. Printing was man’s work. Each sheet was impressed separately, but with clever. “Ian has gone and broken his leg at the football, and we are booked up for our holiday to Turkey. We are supposed to leave tomorrow, but now he can’t go and I was wondering if you could come with me, in his place. I know its short notice, but you are the only one that I would feel comfortable with.”“I’ll phone Bill and see how he feels about me suddenly disappearing on holiday, especially to Turkey,” I’d never been that far away on holiday, and certainly not without him.To my surprise, Bill. More

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