Margareta swept a dozen severed
fish heads into a basket, plucking one out and tossing it to the dog underfoot.
Pushing the hair from her eyes with a slime smeared wrist, she heard a voice asking,
“Is this mackerel?” At the sound her eyes swung round the empty kitchen finding
nothing but the dog busy with its fish head. “Did you speak?” The dog looked up,
swished its fat tongue twice around its lips and smiled at the lovely
white-haired fishwife.
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