Irene Minter was married after a short courtship to sporty Bobby Putnam, and soon after, seven months if anyone was counting, little Bobby was born. Lilian would have been more shocked if it had been any of the other girls, but Irene was different, and the usual rules did not apply. Bobby Putnam was fair-haired, white-teethed and rude to servants. When he wasn’t playing golf, he was playing tennis or mixing drinks at the bar. He saw himself as a connoisseur of women and gave his expert opinion frequently.

Now that’s what I call a looker — long-legged, big-boned, healthy, Bobby Putnam would say, listing attributes not possessed by his wife. And all the time Irene would gaze at him, enraptured, her black eyes stark in her pale face, stupefied by the sound of his voice and the look of him, not seeming to hear the sense of his words. And later, when the unhappiness started, she remained mystified about its cause.

Sister Cabot married Cap Sedgwick at the biggest wedding Boston had seen in a long time. The two of them strode towering up the aisle, leaning forward like giraffes.

At the reception at the Ritz-Carlton Lilian was approached by a tulle cloud of a woman smelling of perfume and squinting against her smile. I hear we have a friend in common, said Nita Russell. Have you heard any news of Mr. Vail?

Oh, Lilian said, not expecting to hear his name. No.

Me neither, said Nita Russell. Last I heard was about the baby.

Baby?

Little girl, yes. Didn’t you know? But that was a couple of years ago, or maybe a year — I can’t remember. Nita Russell looked lovely, the way people do who delight in and accept the ways of the world. He broke my heart, said Nita Russell brightly. He really did.

Lilian smiled weakly.

Said he was coming back for me after the war, and never did. She pouted, then shrugged, immediately putting it out of her mind.

I didn’t know him that well, Lilian said.

Lucky for you, said Nita Russell and she gave Lilian’s arm a pat.

Something stirred in Lilian — the old terror — and she felt another heavy curtain draw back, and found herself looking again at a different world — said he was coming back for me after the war — where the shadows were darker and the light was not a gentle thing.

A man carrying two glasses of champagne came up, handed one to Nita Russell, then looked agreeably at Lilian.

Oh, said Nita Russell, and she looped her arm in the man’s. Have you met my fiancé?

21 • On the Island

21 • On the Island