A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. It was a sickening process, and the sucking sound was sure to wake up Ray’s mother. It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. She glanced at him and made a dismissive gesture. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked.
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