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“I’m truly sorry about your wife. You’ve been lonely for years, haven’t you? I know you’ve had your work and you’re famous and I expect you have a lot of money, but none of these things are all that important, are they?” She stopped frowning.
“I know how I sound, but I don’t mean to. I think you must marry again.” It cost a lot to say that cheerfully. “The children were talking about the lady you took them to have tea with. They seemed to think you might…”
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Mr Trentham stepped inside and shut the door behind him. In silence he stood, staring down at her, a long lean man with thick dark hair, grey eyes and a face which any girl might dream about. He wasn’t middle-aged or short, or stout; anyone less like Mr Banks Sadie had yet to meet. She stared back at him, conscious of a peculiar feeling creeping over her. She shook it off quickly and held out a hand. ‘Good evening, Mr Trentham,’ she said politely, ‘I hope you had a good drive down. I’m Sadie Gillard, the housekeeper.’
He was smiling at her with lazy good humour, and she smiled back, relieved that he was so friendly, not at all what she had expected. Indeed, already the future was tinted with a faint rose colour. Thoughts went scudding through her head: she should have made a chocolate cake as well as the usual fruit one and got in beer. Mr Darling at the Bull and Judge would have known what to sell her…thank heaven she had made that steak and kidney pudding… She was brought down to earth by his voice, slow and deep, faintly amused.
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