” 109 < 15 > AN AFFAIR TO FORGET, 1965 “What was your real Mom like?” Michelle asked when they were walking to school the next day. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’ She stamped her foot. ‘It is the life I know. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. You’re never going to believe this, by the way. Could it be him you mean?" "No. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis.
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