A moment later she was revising her opinion. Death for most young people is so distant as to be irrelevant. For the students, this cemetery adjacent to their university might easily discard its deathliness and instead become a convenient place for a peaceful stroll or a short cut home, perhaps a lovers’ rendezvous. And at that very moment, a young couple, arms around each other, emerged from a side garden and exited via the main gates. As they passed, Sylvie smiled. They did not acknowledge her.

The sun was gently shining, a breeze feathered her hair, the carolling of magpies rippled through the clear languid air. As she ambled along, she felt a sublime serenity. Is this the great gift of the dead? she wondered. That in some mysterious way they infuse you and soothe you with their everlasting rest? She could not remember walking here before, but then it was uncommon for her to take a leisurely stroll anywhere — and why she should be so busy with neither job nor young children, she did not know. Of course now, with her letter project, she really did have something to occupy her. And there’d been more time spent with Leonard recently. He seemed to need it; he seemed to need her.

In the months since the Grim Reaper Saturday, theirs had been a ragged and often forlorn time. The revelations had taken them to the edge of a precipice where they had teetered for several weeks, before pulling back — together. While there was much that continued to upset and confuse her, she was absolutely certain she wanted to stay married to Leonard, and equally certain she wanted to keep loving him; she suspected that thinking too deeply about their problems jeopardised both. Lately, Leonard had been ringing her during the day just to chat, and arriving home early from work. Despite the improvement in their relations, he seemed anxious and generally on edge. When she questioned him, he mentioned a large contract requiring delicate negotiations, a contract, as far as she could judge, no different nor more complex from others he had managed, and requiring, she would have thought, more, rather than less time at the office. And some time ago he had stopped his Saturday golf — a pity, as it had helped him unwind. Just this last weekend, when his irritability was testing even her patience, she suggested he return to his Saturday game. He shook his head. Golf had changed, he said; some of the other fellows had left. And, he added, Winston had left too.

She didn’t think Winston was a member of his golf group.

And neither he was, that was not what Leonard meant. Winston had left the company, he’d left Australia. Winston had returned to Hong Kong.