I would have expected at least a softening, if not an actual cessation, of his hostility for that night at least. But from the moment he arrived it was clear that there would be no such thing. "You met Donald briefly on Saturday," Anna said, taking his coat. "He owns the gal ery I work at." Once again he shook my hand without enthusiasm, responding to my greeting with a short nod. Anna's smile was already beginning to look like hard work. "Would you like a drink?" she asked him. "No, thank you." "There's mineral water or fruit juice, if you want something non-alcoholic. Or I can make you a cup of tea or coffee?" "No, thank you." There was an awkward silence. "Wel , I'd better see to dinner," Anna said, giving me an apologetic glance. She went into the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone. "We might as wel sit down," I said, pleasantly. I lowered myself on to the sofa. Westerman sat stiffly opposite me. I wondered if he ever relaxed. He showed no indication of doing so now. Neither of us spoke.
