Page 58 of The Stranger

I look up and catch Primrose watching. “Has this been the theme of the day?”

“Pretty much,” she replies with a shrug.

It doesn’t seem too long ago that Sylvie idolized her brother.

“How has your day been?” I chance the polite enquiry, hoping to change the subject. Hoping to have Primrose look at me again.

“Fine, thank you.” I experience a jolt of pleasure as her eyes meet mine, even if she does look a little confused.

“Have you had the chance to explore the property further?”

“Yes, thank you. A little.”

“Tres bon, oui?” Sylvie puts in.

“Yes. Very beautiful, Sylvie.” She smiles my daughter’s way, and I find myself wanting her to smile for me. Ridiculous. Am I in my forties or am I fourteen?

“And you’re finding your way around satisfactorily?”

“Well, I made it to the dinner table again,” she murmurs without a glance this time.

The corner of my mouth hooks up. That’s more like it. More like our usual exchanges.

“Yes, but do you know, Papa, Primrose has a terrible sense of direction. She almost got lost on the way to see Andiamo again.”

Primrose mutters something I don’t quite hear and Sylvie frowns.

“Under what bus? There are no buses on the estate. I wish there were. I think I would like to ride a bus.”

“I trust you weren’t too alarmed?”

With a frown, the nanny’s attention slides my way. She looks irritated. “I wasn’t lost. Not properly.”

“Because I came back for you again,” Sylvie says, very much matter-of-factly.

“Yes, okay, but⁠—”

“Primrose, have you ever ridden a bus?”

“Yes.” Her expression softens. “You’re not missing much there, sweets.”

“I would like to try for myself. When we travel in the car, Felix just ignores me. On a bus, the people might speak to me. Papa, do you know next time we go, Primrose says she will take crackers and leave a trail.”

“For the bus?”

“For the stables, silly! But the birds will just eat them, and she will still be lost.”

Primrose stifles a frustrated breath and the little devil sitting on my shoulder whispers, She’s such a little perfectionist. I bite back a smile. “Perhaps we can give Primrose some rope.”

“You’re not that lucky,” she murmurs under her breath.

Oh, darling, that wasn’t at all the direction of my thoughts. “To allow her to find her way back.” My tone is even but I slide her a loaded glance. Reaching for the wine, I motion to her empty glass.

“No, thank you.”

“You don’t like wine?” In my presence, she’s refused wine at every meal.

“I like it just fine. I just don’t think it’s a good idea when I’m working.”