He looked behind him suddenly with the peculiar sensation that someone had been following him. The person had been there the whole of his walk, crouched against the tree trunks, hidden by the Olneys’ garbage cans, crawling among the Colchesters’ rosebushes. A shiver ran through him. He remembered a walk he’d once taken with Arthur a long time before on the Island when Arthur had torn off into the woods and disappeared. He couldn’t remember why. At first Mr. Eliot had worried he was lost till he saw the striped sock and bare calf peeking out from behind a mossy rock. So he had played along, ignoring the crackling of twigs and the rustle of leaves. Mr. Eliot did not let on he saw the flash of green jersey back on their road, or the little figure dashing in the back door, he’d walked up to the house slowly, hands loose at his sides, jauntily taking the rise of the lawn. And when he opened the door, Arthur was standing there with a shiny look of surprise on his face, delight lifting the edges of his eyes. Mr. Eliot thought of it now, distraught, it had been such a pleased face. Then there was his own father’s face the time he’d broken the ice chest handle, disappointed, and they were getting all mixed up, the bright hopeful face at the door and the adult sour face, admonishing him, judging.

He paused to catch his breath but could only manage a shallow panting. It seemed as if the thing which had been following him had now gone on ahead, sneaking forward as Arthur had done. This time it had gone into the house: it was in the library, it had crawled under the sofa where Mr. Eliot planned to lie down. He did not hurry to it. As he went forward, he could practically hear the panting mouth, expectant, ready to take him.

52 • Mrs. Eliot is missing

52 • Mrs. Eliot is missing

AFTER MR. ELIOT’S death, Lilian hired a number of nurses to look after Mrs. Eliot. It was hard to keep them straight.

Late one afternoon, one of the nurses telephoned Lilian in a sharp clipped voice, implying with each emphasized word that it was not her fault, she had left her as usual in the living room at four o’clock, and when she came back just ten minutes later the french door was ajar and Mrs. Eliot was gone. Lilian assured her she couldn’t have gone far and said she’d be right over. Since Mr. Eliot’s death, Lilian had spent a great deal of time in Brookline.

Turning onto Curtis Road, Lilian saw her mother’s pale blue sweater ahead in the dusk, heading down the dip toward the Colchesters’ pillars. She got out of the car.