Seen And Not Heard
“Claire sat at the well-scrubbed table, drinking inky black coffee, trying to warm her hands on the thin Limoges cup. Her mugs had disappeared, and she had to hold very tightly to the delicate china to still the trembling in her hands. The coffee still sloshed against the eggshell-thin sides of the cup.
It was late. After eight o’clock in the morning, and Claire hadn’t done all the myriad things required of her on a normal morning. She hadn’t gone to get Marc’s paper and croissants, she hadn’t p...icked up the laundry, she hadn’t dressed in a silk dress and applied the expensive makeup Marc had insisted she buy. She had crawled out of the bed like a wounded puppy, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, and gone to make herself coffee. Waiting, dreading the moment when Marc would wake up and join her.
Did he know about Harriette’s murder? He must, why else would he have returned from his so-called tour of the ? Did he have her and Nicole’s passports? Who else would have them? Did she have a chance in hell of escaping, of taking Nicole with her?MoreLess
It was late. After eight o’clock in the morning, and Claire hadn’t done all the myriad things required of her on a normal morning. She hadn’t gone to get Marc’s paper and croissants, she hadn’t p...icked up the laundry, she hadn’t dressed in a silk dress and applied the expensive makeup Marc had insisted she buy. She had crawled out of the bed like a wounded puppy, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, and gone to make herself coffee. Waiting, dreading the moment when Marc would wake up and join her.
Did he know about Harriette’s murder? He must, why else would he have returned from his so-called tour of the ? Did he have her and Nicole’s passports? Who else would have them? Did she have a chance in hell of escaping, of taking Nicole with her?MoreLess
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