Her eyes landed on me.
She stopped. For the first time since she entered the house, her expression changed.
Her smile softened. She looked at me for several seconds without saying anything.
I remained where I was. There was something strangely familiar about the way she studied me.
I didn't recognise her. But I had seen that kind of look before.
It was the way people sometimes looked at someone when they were trying to find another person's features in their face.
The woman's eyes moved over my face slowly.
Then she looked at Helen.
And back at me.
I glanced at my mother. She looked increasingly uncomfortable.
I didn't say anything. Neither did the woman. For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then the woman smiled again.
“I have to admit,” she said, her voice carrying a
