FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. Capes bore a face of infinite perplexity. Kneebone," she added, with a glance at that gentleman, which was meant to speak daggers, "will do as he pleases. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. " "What should I retract, villain?" cried the woollen-draper, who at the sound of Jack's voice had regained his confidence.
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