I drove away then. I didn’t look back, not even a glance through the rear-view mirror. I drove an extra block to avoid going past the school where the children were waiting for the time when they could go home, except that today they wouldn’t be going home but next door, expecting me to arrive to pick them up, but instead, later, Stephen would come for them and he would be pale and upset. He would take them home and they would ask where I was and he would have to explain to them somehow, something that he couldn’t possibly understand himself. I felt — sorry, I supposed.

I turned onto the expressway and was on my way.

Stephen would find another woman, a good woman I hoped. There was no pain in thinking that. Katie and Elliott would grow up, they were halfway there already; I had done what I could, and that, too, must have scarred them. I was not trying to make it sound right; there was no need to justify what I was doing.

The miles ticked on and as I took myself physically farther away, the past became more and more remote, the people more and more ghost-like. It was still early afternoon. I wondered whether I should drive directly to the cabin, or stop in town and pick up the rest of the things I would need. It would be best, I thought, to stop. That way the next day would be without chores, and it would be the real beginning.

It was four o’clock when I got to the town. I saw the time on the town hall clock, and wondered how I would ever manage, not knowing from now on.

The children would be leaving school, but I wasn’t thinking of that; the distance had moved me too far. I found a hardware store and bought a step-ladder and fuses. I went down the street to a furniture store and bought a mattress, which I had them tie onto the top of my car. It would do for a bed, until I was settled properly. I also bought a small freezer and ordered it delivered to the cabin; it would be necessary to store food in bulk, I knew, and I had no intention of doing it the hard way, in the ground. I paid in cash and they promised to bring it to me the next day. I told them to be careful on the lane.

It was late, almost six, when I had bought enough to get me started. I set out for the cabin then, tired from the day and the duties. The cabin was pulling at me, I wanted to be in it, but something else had kept me back, wanting everything to be ready. The country roads enclosed me.