CHAPTER 27
Longinus sat behind his desk, drinking his port. A warm light from the vapour lamp illuminated his room and all the familiar things that normally gave him comfort. His hands were shaking so violently, he kept having to put the tumbler down for fear of spilling port on his papers.
He drained the tumbler in one go and poured himself a second glass, the bottle tinkling against the glass. He drained that and poured himself a third, drained that too, and then poured a fourth for good measure. The port helped, steadying his hands.
It occurred to him that for the first time in a long time, there was someone in the house with him. He wasn’t alone. He could go downstairs and talk to Rory.
A stupid idea.
He looked at the painting on the wall, at his mother, proud and beautiful. It w
