“They took Lincoln Avenue, turned left on University and carried on towards the suburbs north of the city. They barely spoke during the drive. They parked in front of Branstyne’s house, a single-storey building, with white walls, big windows, a smooth green roof, crowned with two chimneys (one very small and metal, the other larger, rectangular and made of stone), above which swayed a willow. A gravel path across the garden led to the garage, whose silhouette stood out against a dense mass of ve...getation. They went into the dining room. From the kitchen they could hear the clinking of glasses, cutlery and saucepans, as well as a delicate smell of pasta. Tina soon appeared wrapped in a brown apron, her hair dishevelled, her smile radiant. Mario thought she looked lovely. They kissed hello. ‘Dinner will be ready in a minute,’ said Tina. Looking at Mario with shining eyes she added, ‘It’s going to be absolutely delicious.’ And she went back into the kitchen. ‘We’ve got time for a drink,’ said Branstyne.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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