The Woman At the Window (2013)
“What she saw, as far as she knew, could not think or feel but it endured the passage of the seasons more successfully than she did. Spring would arrive with renewed strength, disturbing the soil. She raised a hand to her neck and smoothed her cheek as if to disperse a pressure on her skin. In the middle-distance she could see the white sails of a windmill, recently refurbished to attract tourists, show above the undulating hedges and, further to the north, four turbines of the wind farm to whic...h her late husband had taken such exception. ‘Damn them,’ he said. ‘Ruining my skyline.’ Now they were as much part of the view from the drawing-room window as the thin glimpse of the Irish Sea beyond them.
Even as she stared a stranger appeared, opening the road gate. He walked silently along the sweep of gravel drive towards the house. He wore a black coat and hat and walked with a seemly hesitation in his step, like a man about to attend a funeral. His solemn figure contrasted with the rows of daffodils in full bloom that glistened in the fitful sunlight.MoreLess
Even as she stared a stranger appeared, opening the road gate. He walked silently along the sweep of gravel drive towards the house. He wore a black coat and hat and walked with a seemly hesitation in his step, like a man about to attend a funeral. His solemn figure contrasted with the rows of daffodils in full bloom that glistened in the fitful sunlight.MoreLess
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