Skip glanced at the woman speaking. She was in her late fifties and had her hair dyed a brilliant blonde that didn't look natural in the slightest. Instantly, Skip stepped forward. When she spoke, there was no trace of the crass Irish girl. She sounded, actually, like she'd been born and raised in Chelsea.
"Missus Stanton, please. Allow me to introduce you to Mister Memon. Mister Memon, Janice Stanton. She's the wife of Mortimer Stanton, the man who owns the youth centre down the street."
"Miss Hughes," Janice said, shaking Skip's hand briefly before allowing it to be offered to James, "it's wonderful to see you here."
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Skip glanced at the woman speaking. She was in her late fifties and had her hair dyed a brilliant blonde that didn't look natural in the slightest. Instantly, Skip stepped forward. When she spoke, there was no trace of the crass Irish girl. She sounded, actually, like she'd been born and raised in Chelsea.
"Missus Stanton, please. Allow me to introduce you to Mister Memon. Mister Memon, Janice Stanton. She's the wife of Mortimer Stanton, the man who owns the youth centre down the street."
"Miss Hughes," Janice said, shaking Skip's hand briefly before allowing it to be offered to James, "it's wonderful to see you here."