14In the driveway, Lambert stood and watched the taillights of Miles' car disappearing into the murkiness of the dusk. He had refused Miles' offer of help, to support him up the castle steps, preferring to be alone with his thoughts. The journey home seemed so long, so painful, conflicting images racing through his head, pulling him in every direction. Sometimes he felt like a squash ball, slammed constantly against this wall and then that, not knowing where he was going to end up next. Bruised and battered, his mind scrambled by the question, how could Lorna be in the photograph? Nineteen-hundred and four?
He went into the castle as if in a dream, only vaguely aware of Sinclair fussing around him, offering him drinks and snacks, all of which Lambert refused. He slumped in front of the fi
