Follow a Stranger

rather early.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she stammered, conscious of his gaze.

He took her arm and smiled at her mother. “Good night,

Mrs. Caulfield.”

As they drove away he said, “I thought we would dine at

the Black Swan. Do you know it?”

She did, but had never been there, since it was the most

expensive hotel for miles around. They drove for a quarter of

an hour before reaching the high gates. The hotel was set

back in its own grounds, the drive bordered by masses of

rhododendron bushes which, in summer, were a blaze of

colour. Now they were dimly visible, in the car headlights.

They pulled up in front of the hotel. He came round and

helped her out of the car and they walked round to the

brilliantly lit porch.

They were escorted to their table by an obsequious head

waiter who used her host’s name ostentatiously. Kate

guessed that even the Black Swan was not accustomed to the

patronage of such wealthy customers. Not many people in

Greyford came into the supertax bracket and there were no

local millionaires.

She found the punctilious attentions embarrassing.

Flushed and irritable, she avoided Marc Lillitos’s eyes. Was

this how he was always treated? With hovering waiters;

flattering, bowing and scraping; continual observation by the

other guests, curious whispers at each move he made? It

must be abominable.

But if it was, perhaps it went some way to explaining his

air of arrogant self-assurance. How often had someone said

no to him? How many times had he heard angry voices? Been