She saw that she was carrying a purple balloon. She dropped it and watched it go bouncing like a great bubble across the room.
In the bedroom she found the letter in the folds of the blotter. ‘What a silence, Martin! I have been missing you....’ Aghast, she tore it in shreds.
Now to go back to Julian.
He was standing in the middle of the room, waiting.
‘Julian, what are Martin’s initials?’
He thought.
‘Something St. V.—G. M. St. V.—George Martin St. Vincent.’
He raised his eyebrows—but grew pale.
‘Ah, yes.’
The paper lay on the window-seat; she went to get it. ‘Take it away and read. There, where I’ve marked it.’ She made a cross with her thumbnail.