Little Bee: A Novel

Little Bee: A Novel

Chris Cleave

Language: English

Pages: 271

ISBN: 1416589643

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

We don't want to tell you too much about this book. It is a truly special story and we don't want to spoil it. Nevertheless, you need to know something, so we will just say this: It is extremely funny, but the African beach scene is horrific. The story starts there, but the book doesn't. And it's what happens afterward that is most important. Once you have read it, you'll want to tell everyone about it. When you do, please don't tell them what happens either. The magic is in how it unfolds.

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tongue while your lips are still hot from the cup. It disappears, like plantations stretching up into the mist. I have heard that your country drinks more tea than any other. How sad that must make you—like children who long for absent mothers. I am sorry. So, we drank tea in Sarah’s kitchen. Charlie was still asleep in his bedroom at the top of the stairs. Sarah put her hand on mine. “We need to talk about what happened,” she said. “Are you ready to talk about that? About what happened

world.” Sarah flinched, as if something had struck her face. “What is it?” I said. She held her head in her hands. “It’s nothing,” she said. “It’s silly.” I could not think of anything to say. I looked all around her garden for something to kill myself with, in case the men suddenly came. There was a shed at the far end of the garden, with a large garden fork leaning against it. That is a fine implement, I thought. If the men suddenly come, I will run with that fork and I will throw

going to be. There were endless soirees, and always an after-party. I met a new crowd. Actors, painters, businesspeople. I felt a thrill I hadn’t felt since before I met Andrew—the thrill of realizing I was attractive, of knowing myself irresistible, of being half drunk on champagne and looking around at the bright, smiling faces and giggling when I realized that suddenly anything could happen. So I should hardly have been surprised when it did. Inevitably, at one of those parties, I finally

was embarrassed that Lawrence had been standing there. “Oh don’t be shy,” he said. “You’re great with Charlie. Come and have some breakfast.” “Okay,” I said. “Batman, do you want some breakfast?” Charlie stared at Lawrence and then he shook his head, so I switched through the TV channels until we found the one that Charlie liked, and then I went into the kitchen. “Sarah’s sleeping,” said Lawrence. “I suppose she needs the rest. Tea or coffee?” “Tea, thank you.” Lawrence boiled

through the crowds on the walkway and they stopped beside the steps that led down to the sand. They got out of the car and they put on their hats. They were wearing white short-sleeved shirts and thick black vests with a black-and-white checkered stripe. The vests had many pockets, and in them there were batons and radios and handcuffs and other things I could not guess the names of. I was thinking, Charlie would like this. These policemen have more gadgets than Batman. If I was telling this

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