‘Yeah, but you’ve got to look at all the normal mags as well, got to know your enemy,’ said Julia. ‘It’s the whole Fawcett thing,’ another scorching puff on the tissue paper firework in her hand, ‘no good starting a fight about it. It’s about looking the part. A bit of lipstick won’t hurt. Camouflage. Then once you’re inside you can do what you like.’
‘Yeah, but suppose the wind changes and you stay like it?’
‘Oh gawd. D’you reckon? Is that what happens? Get married, have babies, forget what it was you came in for? Oh gawd.’