It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. They took their places at a distant table. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. “How would you know?” Michelle’s interest was piqued. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. Here are the jade carvers. Michelle spoke to Lucy about the dinner party after the concert. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying.
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