A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. Who she is I have not discovered, but she is masquerading as Melusine, and for all I know, is not even married to the man who calls himself Valade. He did not come out of his chloroform coma and sailed weakly to his death. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. . ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting.
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