Richard
The intercom buzzes. “Charlotte Conners is on her way up, Mr Haswell."
“Thanks, Francis. Send her right in."
Five minutes later, there's a tap at the door....
“Come in."
.... and the young woman I briefly met a few weeks ago enters my office.
She's wearing standard 'office dress': a neatly ironed white blouse, regulation knee-length black skirt, and her hair, which I last saw long and loose, is tightly pinned to her head....
But what I mainly notice is her likeness to my Elizabeth....
Ye gods, you look even more like her now I get a good look at you....
.... It can't be a coincidence...
.... Surely there's no Conners in Elizabeth's family?
The resemblance to my wife is distracting, but I pull myself back to the real world, remembering my manners.
Standing to greet her,
