CHAPTER 12
HE MUST HAVE been at least 75 years of age and half her size. As he walked stiffly towards her she noticed the obvious dark toupee perched precariously atop sparse tufting grey hair sticking out at the sides of a head not dissimilar to a shrivelled up walnut.
“Are you Greta? I’m Terry, but you can call me Tel.” He coughed violently, as her heart sank into the depths of her Jimmy Choo boots.
“Nice to meet you, Tel.” Lyn forced a smile and wondered as to the best way of cutting the evening short.
“You look just like your photo.”
She noticed the surprised tone of his voice, and realised that she had been just a little too trusting.
“You don’t.” She wondered if it had been his son or perhaps even his grandson posing for the picture.
“Oh....er......it was taken a while bac
