“Hello, Jean.”

There was no trace of awkwardness in his greeting, only his usual warmth and politeness.

“Gretchen sent me a note about calling in this weekend for a dress fitting.”

“Oh yes. She said.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been cast as my social secretary, but she asked me to let you know a suitable time.”

“Of course. I have my pen and paper ready to take dictation.”

She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Shall we say 11 a.m. on Saturday?”

“Very good.”

“And . . . Howard?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’ve done something a bit rash.”

“Oh?” His tone was suddenly serious. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“I want you to be completely honest.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve bought Margaret a rabbit. She said she was desperate for a pet, and I was passing the shop and went in and bought one on impulse. It was only when I stopped to think about it that I realized it might be a terrible imposition.”

“Is that all? What a relief.”

“Are you horrified by the idea? Please say. I won’t be offended.”

“A rabbit?” he mused. “What a thoughtful . . . thought. No, I can’t say I feel any horror sweeping over me. Quite the opposite.”

“What about Gretchen? Will she disapprove?”

“Do you know, I’m embarrassed to say I have no idea of my wife’s views on rabbits. In nearly ten years of marriage it’s not something we’ve ever discussed.”

Jean felt herself beginning to relax.

“Perhaps I should write her a note.”

“Why don’t I ask her tonight and if she throws up her hands in horror I’ll telephone you tomorrow. If you don’t hear, you can assume she’s in favor.”

“The last thing I want is to cause any trouble.”

In the months ahead she would remember this remark—so sincerely felt—and marvel at her own innocence.

13

Jean stood once more in Gretchen’s workroom, hardly breathing, as the skeleton of a dress, inside out and bristling with pins, was lowered over her head and tweaked and tugged and tightened around her with still more pins until Gretchen was satisfied with the fit. The slightest movement on Jean’s part and she was pierced by a dozen sharp points.

“You are losing weight since I last measured you?” Gretchen said with her curious foreign intonation that made questions of statements, pinching the fabric between finger and thumb.

“Not intentionally,” said Jean, flinching. “I eat less when I’m busy, I suppose. And more when I’m miserable.”

“And at the moment you are overworked but happy?” said Gretchen, lifting the dress carefully, inch by inch, over Jean’s head and laying it on the cutting table.

“Yes, that would be about right.”

She was busy because Gretchen’s case took up so much of her time that every other moment at work was spent catching up with her regular duties. The reason for her happiness was something she chose not to examine.

The ordeal by piercing over, the two women made their way downstairs to the kitchen, where Margaret was sitting on the floor playing with the rabbit. Her outstretched legs formed the fourth side of an enclosure made up of the wall, the wooden dresser and a vegetable rack. She was in a state as close to ecstasy as could be imagined.