You know-” my mother looked over her shoulder – “if you don’t mind, I might just run back and take another quick look at The Anatomy Lesson1 before we leave. I didn’t get to see it up close and I’m afraid I might not make it back before it comes down.” She started away, shoes clacking busily – and then glanced at me as if to say: are you coming? This was so unexpected that for a split second I didn’t know what to say. “Umm,” I said, recovering, “I’ll meet you in the shop.”
“Okay,” she said. “Buy me a couple of cards, will you? I’ll be back in a sec.”
And off she hurried, before I had a chance to say a word. Heart pounding, unable to believe my luck, I watched her walking rapidly away from me in the white satin trenchcoat. This was it, my chance to talk to the girl; but what can I say to her, I thought furiously, what can I say? I dug my hands in my pockets, took a breath or two to compose myself, and – excitement fizzing in my bright stomach – turned to face her.
But to my consternation, she was gone. That is to say, she wasn’t gone; there was her red head, moving reluctantly (or so it seemed) across the room. Her grandpa had slipped his arm through hers and – whispering to her, with great enthusiasm – was towing her away to look at some picture on the opposite wall.
I could have killed him. Nervously I glanced at the empty doorway. Then I dug my hands deeper in my pockets and – face burning – walked conspicuously across the length of the gallery. The clock was ticking; my mother would be back any second; and though I didn’t have the nerve to barge up and actually say something, I could, at the very least get a good last look at her. Not long before, I had stayed up with my mother and watched Citizen Kane, and I was very taken with the idea that a person might notice in passing some bewitching stranger and remember her for the rest of his life. Someday I too might be like the old man in the movie, leaning back in my chair with a far-off look in my eyes, and saying:
“You know, that was sixty years ago, and I never saw that girl with the red hair again, but you know what? Not a month has gone by in all that time when I haven’t thought of her.”
I was more than halfway across the gallery when something strange happened. A museum guard ran across the open doorway of the museum shop beyond. He was carrying something in his arms.
The girl saw it too. Her golden-brown eyes met mine: a startled, quizzical look.
Suddenly, another guard flew out of the museum shop. His arms were up and he was screaming. Heads went up. Someone behind me said, in an odd flat voice: oh!
The next instant, a tremendous, ear-splitting blast shook the room.
The old man – with a blank look on his face – stumbled sideways. His outstretched arm – knotty
fingers spread – is the last thing I remember seeing. At almost exactly the same moment there was a black flash, with debris sweeping and twisting around me, and a roar of hot wind slammed into me and threw me across the room. And that was the last thing I knew for a while.

Question 3 – 8 marks
You now need to think about the whole of the source. This text is from the end of a chapter. How has the writer structured the text to interest you as a reader? You could write about:
• What the writer focuses your attention on at the beginning
• How and why the writer changes this focus as the source develops
• Any other structural devices that interest you.

Can someone answer this question plz.