t day I o it: today, today, today. A tolling bell only I could ed my soul; I felt an unearthday.

    Judit a card from my fat tray. A picture of floings and a note.  signed t for bot  and , but w could anyone do?

    Juditer says would now… ?”

    I slid t. “Now would be fine,” I said, and picked up my pencil and pad.

    ‘er ed to knotle pale. You don’t eat enough.“

    ‘I’m fine,“ I assured .

    All morning I struggled ion of stray art reading a ne one ime to close beers even—caugill  . All day I o distractions. ts, memories, feelings, irrelevant fragments of my oion.

    Miss inter elling me about someterrupted ening to me, Miss Lea?”

    I jerked out of my reverie and fumbled for an ans moment I couldn’t old  s some at t s of tricks, gets up to all kinds of te zone t looks for all ttention to t for ared at e, ed, t t co sentence t presented itself to me.

    ‘er?“

    ‘Good Lord, ion. Of course I . have you gone mad, girl?“

    ‘Emmeline, then?“

    ‘e , do ? No questions?“ And t forinized me closely. ”Are you ill?“

    ‘No, I don’t think so.“

    ‘ell, you are clearly not in your right mind for work.“

    It was a dismissal.

    Back in my room I spent an tled, plagued by myself. I sat at my desk, pencil in  did not e; felt cold and turned tor up, too , took my cardigan off. I’d  t er. I made cocoa and put extra sugar in it; tness nauseated me. A book? ould t do it? In there could help me.

    ttering against t leaped. Outside. Yes, t  just to get ahe moors.

    te  locked, I kneo open it for me. Instead, I o t point from t been opened for a long time, and I o pull tcoo be pusep, a little disside.

    I used to t I loved rain, but in fact I . teel to by all tacles t in its pat of toself. On ttered by tung my face and, beer burst against my shoulders.

    hday.

    If I  t from beneatairs. t auction and put aside during ture.  t afternoon  office or t one lunco cten in it, Love from Dad and Mot te alone. o the shop—

    I  s I  fat a candle, , and er. te tea, and settled doo quiet digestion and cataloging.

    I kne I s  in t from me, but from my mot bear t of table e of remembrance, one t made it impossible to invite otoo, to leave reat of a visit to toys  ones. Cakes ed of t in tin for t day.

    in my ear. e played silent card games  a splutter, could be  pain of t birtairs, cy to sympato jollity, in tairwell.

    Un. It settled like dust upon t covered everyone and everyt invaded us ook. It se miseries.

    Only because I o contemplate these memories.

    so er’s deat? Per to. I er  of me was a reminder of her loss.

    ould it h died?

    Stupefied, I  in front of terest in wumbled on.

    to something.

    ‘Margaret! Margaret!“

    I oo cold to be startled, too cold to make my face respond to  form t stood before me, sentlike drapes of green rainproof fabric. It moved, and two hands came down on my shoulders and gave me a shake.

    ‘Margaret!“

    It was Aurelius.

    ‘Look at you! You’re blue ook my arm and led me briskly off. My feet stumbled over til o a road, a car.  of ea.

    ‘Drink!“

    I drank. tea .

    ‘Eat!“

    I bit into t.

    In t tea and eating c colder teetarted to cter and I srollably.

    ‘Goodness gracious!“ Aurelius exclaimed softly as y sandher. ”Dear me!“

    to bring me to my senses a little. “ are you doing here, Aurelius?”

    ‘I came to give you to ted a cake tin ts.

    Placing tin on my lap,  me as he lid.

    Inside ers, .

    I oo cold to cry. Instead tion of cold and cake set me talking. ords emerged from me, randomly, like objects disgorged by glaciers as turnal singing, a garden ers, a baby, a spoon. “And soale grandmot you see  means? ”

    Aurelius s sold me—”

    ‘So you, Aurelius! o see , sted it.“

    ‘Bless me!“ exclaimed Aurelius. ” t bro of mine? I o pretend to be a journalist, you kno t I elling o sink in, ”A spoon like mine, you say? And she house?“

    ‘S, Aurelius. And Emmeline is your mother.“

    Aurelius stopped patting my  ared out of tion of there.”

    I nodded.

    turned to me. “take me to .”

    I seemed to  well.”

    ‘Ill? t take me to  delay!“

    ‘Not ill, exactly.“ o explain? ”S only her face. her mind.“

    ion, added it to ore of loss and pain, and ake me to her.”

    as it illness t dictated my response? as it t t it  my oors migo do , but more significant ted for my anso say no to  faced y of o nothing.

    I said yes.