It had also been a very disappointing day.Her nephew had not arrived in time for lunch, and the conflicting instructions she had issued to the cook about the meal had resulted in its proving a fiasco. And on top of that the meringues ordered specially for tea had remained unconsumed, and the hour for aperitifs (which, apparently, Pierre never missed if he could help it!) had come and gone, and so had dinner. And now it was late evening, a high gale had sprung up, and the sea was lashing itself into a fury at the foot of the cliff on which Trelas Manor stood.Madame Albertin drew aside the curtains and peered into the night, and admitted sadly that it was highly unlikely Pierre would arrive at this late hour.“Unless, of course, the dear boy has been held up.” Her small, faded face looked hopeful. “Some accident to the car ... Perhaps a puncture.”“There are always garages to attend to punctures,” Chloe reminded her a little cruelly. Or she felt she was being unnecessarily cruel when she saw the way her employer appeared to crumple.“Yes.”
