“Saw your mum take a fall today.” She indicated a spot a bit further up the road. “I offered to call a doctor but—” And she shrugged.

“Was she pissed?”

“She was in a bit of a state. A bit … confused. Have the empties been stacking up?”

I tried to think. “They could be in her room. Or out the back.”

“Might want to check on her, Andy.”

“I’ll look in.”

But I didn’t. I looked for cans or bottles, but there weren’t any. I stood outside her door awhile, a long while, staring at the doorknob. She was breathing at least. Part of me wanted to go in, but it was small and weak, and a much larger part of me wanted to be elsewhere, and before very long that was the part that won.

David was sleeping, lying on his back with the sleeping bag drawn down about his waist. The moon was waxing again. On the side was a pack of cigarettes. I guessed Peter had bought them for him. I slid one out and sparked it at the window. I fancied I could feel him wake, that there was the slightest perceptible change. He didn’t ask me what was up or why I was there.

Eventually, I said, “He hid them at night. We haven’t played at night yet.”

“Just us?”

“Yeah.” I heard him get out of the bag and slip on his jeans.

“Do you have them? Am I hiding them?”

“I want us to look for the real ones, for Mortimer’s ones.”

We went down the stairs in the darkness and then out into the courtyard.

The diamonds were there, I knew it. The lake shimmered and the wind swayed the trees. We looked together for an hour, maybe two. No luck. No luck anywhere. I sat down on the stone bench where Mortimer died and the tears rolled down my cheeks.

“What’s all this?” he said.

When I reached out for him, it was like grabbing a handhold because if you didn’t you were going to fall.

Did I cry because I wanted him to touch me? Possible. But I couldn’t have stopped it. Once we started touching, I couldn’t stop that either.

“Did you turn him down?” We were in the little room at the top of the house, pink sunrise flooding in so it was like being inside a jewel. I had my hand on the small hollow that lay in the center of David’s chest, a few inches down from his heart. Outside, under the eaves, the wood pigeons cooed. They were so fat now they could barely get off the ground, wobbling and bobbling their way across the lawn, fanning their tails at one another, courting.

“Not in so many words, but yes, I suppose I did.”

“You didn’t get off with him?”

“Would it make a difference?”

“I’d feel worse.”