Shearston, Trevor, 1946-2021
Books
'Please. I'm in hell!' The truth of that was in his face. The rims of his eyes were red-raw, his hair was matted, he hadn't shaved since knocking at her door, when he'd been clean-shaven - one of the few details she remembered of that blurred encounter. 'I know why you're avoiding me. Whoever tol...