Chapter 12 Andrea-plan Unfolding

• Tristan
• When he saw the woman who had been living with Jack Stevenson, Andrea’s former husband, he had been struck by the way she had seemed defenceless and innocent. And absurdly young. She had been standing in the rain, her long golden hair in a ponytail with wisps that had escaped, framing her small, woebegone looking face. He had been drawn to the expression on her face, the great green eyes swimming in tears and a wide mouth. She had been biting her plump lower lip to prevent herself from sobbing out, probably as she watched her man’s body being lowered to the grave. Not very tall, he had thought, as he raked a look over her, barely five feet. Her small frame was hidden in a voluminous old coat that had obviously seen better days. With her was her young son, clutching her hand, a thumb in his mouth, looking lost and unhappy. Tristan had felt a twinge of pity for the two. But Andrea had begun to weep loudly and he had been too preoccupied allaying her sorrow
• She had clung to him, almost sinking to the ground, sobbing and he had glanced up to meet the eyes of the woman on the other side of the grave. Her expression was one of bewilderment and for a moment, as she looked at him, he felt a twinge of…something he could not name. A desire?