Sea Glass Summer by Dorothy Cannell Page B

increasingly blue eyes. ‘You’re Rowena. I liked it when you came to visit.’ He was touching her shoulder when the sound of an approaching vehicle reached them. They both turned to see an SUV skirt the rear of the Cadillac and stop just short of the driveway. A man was getting out of the driver’s side, his concerned voice carrying clearly.
    â€˜How are things?’
    â€˜I’m fine,’ Sarah raised her voice against the breeze, ‘but I can’t assess beyond myself.’ She wasn’t going to shout out that her companion was still badly confused. He added nothing; his eyes had emptied again.
    The driver of the SUV was now opening the front passenger-side door. She watched the newcomer assisting someone in getting out. A woman. Judging from the glimpse of silver hair she had to be elderly, or at the least not young. Relief at the arrival of support was tamped down by continued concern over the car crash victim’s behavior.
    Sarah guided him across the lawn to the driveway which the arrivals now approached. The man was tall, ruggedly built with a thatch of white hair, and wore a lightweight jacket open to reveal a thick knit navy sweater. The woman was slim, fairly tall with an upright carriage and a suggestion of quiet elegance, perhaps partially supplied by the pearl earrings and single strand around her neck. She was coatless. The strain on her face was evident as they drew nearer, although Sarah sensed control over panic. Was this the wife, whom she’d been told was dead?
    The four met at the foot of the driveway, the woman dividing her gaze between Sarah and the man who had now taken hold of her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. ‘Look,’ he was drawing her forward, triumph in his voice, ‘it’s Rowena.’ Resentment filtered in, tightening his profile. ‘You said she lived . . . somewhere else.’
    The silver-haired woman put her arms around him as he released Sarah’s hand and shambled up to her. ‘No, Sonny. This isn’t Rowena, although I understand why you would think so; the dark hair and similar height. Now why don’t you go and talk for a minute to this nice man who so kindly brought me to find you, and then we can go home.’
    â€˜I don’t want . . .’
    The other man cooperated promptly, a smile warming his fresh-complexioned face. Up close Sarah assessed his age to be in the early- to mid-fifties. The hand he extended to Sonny looked as if it was regularly put to manual use. He had a British accent.
    â€˜Good to meet you, Mr Norris. I’m Sid Jennson from next door.’
    â€˜Are you?’
    Sarah had been informed by the realtor that an English couple owned the neighboring house. Mr Jennson gave her a kind look before turning his attention back to Sonny Norris. ‘The wife’s gone for the weekend, visiting our daughter, so you’ll be doing me a favor giving me a bit of a chat. How about we go take a look at your car and see what it’ll take to get it chugging?’
    â€˜It wasn’t my fault.’
    â€˜I’m sure. Nasty hill that one, had problems with it myself. I understand you were a piano teacher. Always wanted to take lessons as a kid; think I’m too old to give it a try?’ The response was a mumble, but lacking in hostility.
    The silver-haired woman waited until the two men moved away before turning her blue eyes to Sarah. ‘Rowena is my sister. She lives in Cyprus. I’m so terribly sorry for what you’ve been put through; such a scare for you, the shock of the car coming at your house must have been dreadful. I hope at the very least you were indoors.’
    â€˜I wasn’t, which was for the best,’ Sarah added quickly, ‘because I was able to get to him at once. It was a relief to find he didn’t appear badly hurt. But do you think you should come inside and phone your doctor to take a look at him?’
    â€˜I think I’ll wait