The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Flavia de Luce, #1)

by Alan Bradley

Between girls there is a silent and unending flow of invisible signals, like the high-frequency wireless messages between the shore and the ships at sea, and this secret flow of dots and dashes was signaling that Mary detested me.

Everyone wanted to have a word, but nobody wanted to say anything that mattered.

I wanted to shake the stuffing out of him; I wanted to hug him; I wanted to die.

Wrapped up in the music, I threw myself into an overstuffed chair and let my legs dangle over the arm, the position in which Nature intended music to be listened to,

I threw myself into an overstuffed chair and let my legs dangle over the arm, the position in which Nature intended music to be listened to,

But Father’s guilt was a moral thing and, as such, hardly my cup of tea.