“Erica would have been heartbroken if they did not like reading.”

“Shame she had to give up her job.”

“She might go back to it.”

“It’s not easy to work your way up, later on.”

Antonio shrugged. “I don’t know. I think you can.”

“Would you want her to go back to work?”

“She loves being there for the boys.” Abruptly he got to his feet. The wall clock said twenty after seven. He had a home to return to, excuses to make.

I stood too. “I’m leaving Monday.”

He hid what looked like alarm under his courtly smile. “So soon?”

“I did tell you.” I gathered my things and stepped to one side so the table was no longer between us. “There’s an opening at the Tate Modern on Saturday night. Would you like to come?”

He took my hands and kissed me on each cheek. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

“Can you get away?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You think so? Or you can?”

“I can, as a matter of fact. Erica’s taking the boys to her mother.”

Late as it was, we parted on New Oxford Street. I watched Antonio’s long coat dwindle rapidly toward Kingsway. When the road bent to the left, he disappeared along with a turning fleet of black cabs, one of which I knew he would hail as soon as he was out of sight.

33

Do you think there is any hope for us? The human species, I mean. Jack thinks we are probably doomed. Not right away but eventually. In the very long run there are asteroids. And entropy. Or we will fall into the sun. He says people are the worst thing that ever happened to the earth. Do you agree?

I missed my train at London Bridge and made a wrong turn out of Blackheath station; it was three-thirty by the time I found the road leading down to All Saints School. Through the drizzle, I could see the bright coats of the parents clustered like balloons at the gate. The redbrick schoolhouse fit snugly across the cul-de-sac. It looked smaller and friendlier than the photograph on its home page. Families were already coming up the hill as I hurried down, agitated and out of breath and half hoping I was too late. A pair of mothers and daughters passed in matching coats; a father flicked the rain cover into place on a stroller; older students cut their own giggling paths. A woman in a purple jacket came forward, with a boy on either side.

“Mum, I’ve still got one in my bag—” said the taller one.

“Give it to Daniel. Go on, be fair—”

“But I’ve only got one, Mum—”