One from 1966, a yearbook photo reprinted in a newspaper. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. She wasn’t well-liked really, I think people were jealous of her. And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. ’ ‘Don’t you dare. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn.
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