Last Guests of the Season

Cover Last Guests of the Season
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Genres: Fiction
They had come down in ones and twos, Claire first, taking tea through to Robert in Jessica’s room, opening the shutters on to the dense greenery outside the window.
    ‘How’s Oliver?’ he muttered, rolling over.
    ‘I wouldn’t know – he’s not about.’ The bed on the floor had been taken up, cushions replaced on the sofa, the blankets folded and put on a chair. The doors to the terrace were open.
    ‘Probably gone for a swim,’ said Robert.
    And he obviously had: standing in the doorway now h
...e looked fresher than any of them, his hair damp, his skin clear, a towel flung round his shoulders. Jessica, spooning sugar on to her cornflakes, looked up at him and looked away; sugar fell on the tablecloth.
    ‘Careful,’ said Claire, beside her. ‘Well,’ she said to him, feeling her way, aiming for ordinariness, for the children’s sake, ‘how is the river this morning?’ ‘I haven’t been to the river, only up to the pool.’ Oliver did not come in any further, and he did not meet her eyes; he did not look directly at any of them, and most particularly not at Frances, Who sat next to Tom, sipping coffee as though there were nothing else she might ever want to do.
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