It was late in the day so the topiary and the hedges cast their shadows across the lawn, black and geometric before the tangle of flowers. The garden was still, the stillness accentuated by the thin song of hidden birds. Only the insects moved, and a last flurry of pale butterflies, or a first one of moths, as if their wings were all the weight the air could take besides the scent of the roses; and the two women, one half a step ahead of the other. Jonathan was standing at the French windows. She did not want him to join them just then, she wanted a few moments alone with this girl. Soon they would sit down to supper. She had it ready in the oven, keeping warm. And the table was laid. They had only to wait for Richard to come in, then the food could be brought out, the salad dressed, water poured.

Let’s go into the garden, she had said. Just until Richard comes in. It’s such a nice evening. She thought, Richard should have been back by now. It was rude of him not to have come in sooner to meet Jonny’s girl. Rude to keep her waiting when she must be tired after her flight.

Oh, the girl had said, so smoothly and lightly, I would love to see your garden.

Really, this Japanese girl was quite disarming. Not what she had expected.