The words burst from her lips, she was so surprised. Her husband smiled deprecatingly.
‘Sorry if I startled you, old girl. I came over from Nice.’
‘Nice! Really, Eric, I could not be more astonished if a balloon had dropped down the chimney.’
‘So it appears,’ Eric Featherstone smiled, ‘but I wanted to have a talk with you.’
Violet realised they were both standing with half the width of the room between them.
‘Come and sit down,’ she said, moving towards the sofa.
As she watched him seat himself, she thought he was looking well.
Eric Featherstone had no pretentions to good looks, but he would never be mistaken for anything but what he was, an English gentleman. Six feet two in height, slightly stiff in his bearing, there was something quietly authoritative and reliable about him whic
