CHAPTER THIRTY
A cool westerly breeze skipped across the lake. There was a calm silence in the air. High above, wandering seagulls hovered in the warm sunshine, scouring the land for their next meal. Anglers sat on the riverbank; carbon-fibre rods held on stands as their masters sat idly. In the distance, cars hurtled past on the freeway that led back to the city. Southampton was green and open. As part of the Hamptons, it smelt of money as much as it did of fresh air. There were large estates with long drives—some were so long they almost seemed like freeways.
Some people had moorings on the lake: long wooden piers that held expensive weekend playthings. Long-nosed powerboats, with shiny white hulls and padded seating. One large estate had a helicopter pad; its dull, grey concrete was a
