The Lost Wife (2011)
“When it pulled up in front of the cottage, the smart silver-grey SUV that belonged to her ex-husband looked like a snowmobile, blanketed in several layers of thick white frosting. And still the crystalline flakes fell relentlessly from the sky, as if poured through some divine sieve.
The snowy display hadn’t let up all day. Ailsa would have succumbed to the magic of it if she hadn’t been so concerned about Jake returning their daughter safely home. Living in an English country idyll had lots to commend it, but when severe winter weather kicked in the hilly narrow roads could be utterly treacherous. She stood waiting with the front door open as the driver of the vehicle stepped out and walked across the snow-laden path towards her.
It wasn’t Alain—the slim, smart-suited chauffeur she’d been expecting. Usually it was Jake’s French driver that brought Saskia home from her fortnightly trips to London to visit her father, or from the airport when Jake was working in Copenhagen and she stay...ed with him there.MoreLess
The snowy display hadn’t let up all day. Ailsa would have succumbed to the magic of it if she hadn’t been so concerned about Jake returning their daughter safely home. Living in an English country idyll had lots to commend it, but when severe winter weather kicked in the hilly narrow roads could be utterly treacherous. She stood waiting with the front door open as the driver of the vehicle stepped out and walked across the snow-laden path towards her.
It wasn’t Alain—the slim, smart-suited chauffeur she’d been expecting. Usually it was Jake’s French driver that brought Saskia home from her fortnightly trips to London to visit her father, or from the airport when Jake was working in Copenhagen and she stay...ed with him there.MoreLess
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