Something bad had happened there in the past, but something bad was happening in the present. She saw that she was the one who was doing it. She was suddenly aware, and angry. His eyes looking into hers. So blue. No shadow in them. Did she want to see shadow in them, before she could move? Or was it only that she could not pull herself away?

No, she whispered. The rooks were loud above them. No, Richard, we can’t do this.

How could you do this? she said. And here, why here? How could you bring me here, of all places?

She could feel the confusion beginning in him, his body stiffening, eyes looking about as if there was something that he should have seen.

You know, don’t you? Here. It was just here. Right here on the ground where we’re standing. Jonathan knows. Jonathan saw. Jonathan told me.

She was talking out loud now. When she had started to speak it had been only a whisper. She did not move. She did not pull herself away. She went on, aloud, becoming cruel. Driving the point home. Wanting him at the same time. It was a kind of violence.

But you must have known, Jonathan always knew, everyone knew, only they didn’t say, because you people don’t talk about that sort of thing.

What, what thing? he was asking.

Again he asked. He was beginning to understand. He was letting go of her, drawing back, turning away to look about him at the place where it had happened. But he had to have her make it plain. So it was all clear. So that he knew what Jonathan knew. No more secrets. So that was what she did.

And then you buried that dog here. What made you do that? Don’t you see what that meant?

Putting up the rooks

Suddenly she was sorry. She put those neat little hands up before her mouth. Like a doll surprised.

There was no way she could take it back. She had said what she had said, and everything fell into a new place.

It all made sense.

He dropped his arm from the tree. Nothing could happen here any more. Something had happened here once in the past and now there was no present to be had here. Only the past. He let her go, without a word, hands held to her face but in shame now, careless of the nettles that brushed against her jeans and her bare elbows as she went. Even she had known.

He used to come with his father and shoot, just here. Not when it was green like now, with the leaves and the nettles, but in winter when it was all brown, the ground and the trees. Shhh, Richard, his father would say, and he would stand beside him, still as the dog knew to be still, not right under the oak where Kumiko had pointed but at the edge of its cover where there was a view out onto open fields and sky and the pigeons coming in to roost. He had stood in this spot beside his father until he had grown cold, and his mind drifted so that the pigeons always surprised him when they came. But not his father. His father raised the gun and fired, one, two barrels. When a bird fell the pleasure of it warmed them.