We were all more or less thieves at Lant Street. But we were that kind of thief that rather eased the dodgy deed along, than did it ... We could pass anything, anything at all, at speeds which would astonish you. There was only one thing, in fact, that had come and got stuck - one thing that had somehow withstood the tremendous pull of that passage - one thing that never had a price put to it. I mean of course, Me.'
Sue Trinder, orphaned at birth, is born among petty thieves - fingersmiths - in London's Borough. From the moment she draws breath, her fate is linked to another orphan, growing up in a gloomy mansion not too many miles away . . .
A modern day Dickens, Sarah Waters is one of Britain's rising stars.
Some lean to spine, and some light bruising to bottom of spine. In a very good unclipped dust jacket with bruising to edges and spine.
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