Stephanie's Trial
“She got the Cadillac to drop her off at Harrods where she browsed happily for an hour before walking down to Harvey Nichols, telling the chauffeur to wait at Montepeliano where she intended to have a light lunch.
As she walked through Knightsbridge, looking in shop windows but not bothering to go into any of the shops, she had a strange, unaccountable feeling: that she was being followed. Standing in one of the shop doorways she pretended to be looking at the clothes but glanced instead behind ...her. There was no one who looked remotely interested in her.
A burly ginger-haired man in a suede blouson walked past her and up the street without giving her a glance and a small sprightly woman in her sixties, carrying a miniature poodle, did the same. No one dived into a shop to hide, or turned and walked in the opposite direction. No one appeared in the least interested in her. She looked both ways. The ginger-haired man had disappeared.
It was a bout of paranoia, Stephanie decided, though what had caused it she couldn't imagine.MoreLess
As she walked through Knightsbridge, looking in shop windows but not bothering to go into any of the shops, she had a strange, unaccountable feeling: that she was being followed. Standing in one of the shop doorways she pretended to be looking at the clothes but glanced instead behind ...her. There was no one who looked remotely interested in her.
A burly ginger-haired man in a suede blouson walked past her and up the street without giving her a glance and a small sprightly woman in her sixties, carrying a miniature poodle, did the same. No one dived into a shop to hide, or turned and walked in the opposite direction. No one appeared in the least interested in her. She looked both ways. The ginger-haired man had disappeared.
It was a bout of paranoia, Stephanie decided, though what had caused it she couldn't imagine.MoreLess
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