Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness. ‘Yes, tell us everything at once,’ instructed Lucilla, pushing him towards the sofa she had vacated, and obliging him to sit beside her. Drummond was telling me about the way old Ferringhall rounded upon them all at the club. Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked. She could feel Michelle’s nervousness leaching into her spine. Jackson, gallantly. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves.
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