She didn't return from wherever she jetted off to when we got backfrom Cresswell-White's office and found my father waiting at thehouse. It shouldn't belocked. Simondid the delving into her computer. Where are you today, Gideon? you ask me blandly.
Shewas instead exactly what he'd assumed that she'd be: a lonely divorceewhose kids were grown-up and who was facing the prospect of beingcalled Gran about ten years sooner than she wanted. While it did notrender her youthful again, it served to provide her with an air ofdefenceless ness that he'd never been able to ignore. ? But what was the point of asking, the point ofknowing? What did it matter, if she was dead? I left a message for her, son. I'll be next to you, holding you upright orwhatever you want.
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