I had to convince Florence. I always forget, because I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now, that she was convinced other members of the Order were conspiring to take Juan away from her—or should I say from us?—as, she also believed, were other secret cults that referred to themselves as “cults of the shadow” or “cults of the left-handed path.” As she understood it, the constant bodyguards were necessary in order to prevent that kidnapping, and as a guarantee that the medium wouldn’t hurt himself or try to flee, all of which I thought was highly unlikely.

It wasn’t raining, so I dropped Sandy off at the Warburg and left Lucie at Biba and walked to Florence’s house. The city becomes both grayer and greener as you enter the more elegant neighborhoods. Still, I missed the purple flowers of the jacarandas that the wisteria couldn’t replace, though it’s also lovely: there was a particularly lush one growing beside our house in Cheyne Walk. I had to tell Florence the whole truth and propose a simple plan. Juan and I were together, and in love. She knew that, and disapproved. To her, love was impure. I, on the other hand, have had so little love that it seems to me like a delicate jewel, and I’m terrified of losing it. My fear is not just that I’ll misplace it, like an earring on a night of sex or sweaty dancing, it’s that it will evaporate and vanish like alcohol.

I waited for her reclining on the chaise longue in front of the fireplace. I was served tea. I heard footsteps the whole time, though I was alone. Sounds were treacherous in that house, and there were currents of cold air in every corner. I sat up very straight and smoothed my hair when Florence arrived. She listened attentively. My request sounded reasonable. Juan was going to spend his first days out of the hospital in this house, but after that, please, Flo, don’t send him back to Argentina, I want him to see the city. And it would also be good, especially for him, if we could spend some time alone.

She was displeased, but not enough to refuse. We’ll have to talk about it with your uncle first, and I also want to hear what Juan has to say. Doesn’t he trust me?

Of course he does, but he’s very tired. We want to be together, Florence. We accept the surveillance, we’ll accept it if you set up a hospital in the room next door, if necessary. But it’s easier for him to communicate through me, for now. I’m not manipulating him; I would never dare. There’s never been a medium like him before, and that’s partly because he’s been pressured less. I’m asking you for a period of calm.