Our house was dark except for the hall light, but it was all I needed. I sat on the bottom stair, my coat still on, and read Gareth’s letter again. Then I read all the words he had blacked out for others and transcribed for me. Hours passed, and a chill stole into me. I looked at the date of Gareth’s letter; it was already five days old.

I walked to Sunnyside, crept into the kitchen and up the stairs. Lizzie was snoring. I opened the door as quietly as I could, took the spread from the foot of her bed and made a nest of it on the floor.

In the morning, I was roused by Lizzie’s quiet movement around the room. When she noticed me watching her, she scolded me for not waking her in the night. I told her about Gareth’s letter, and she helped me into her bed. Her body’s warmth still clung to the sheets.

“I’ll start cleaning the Scrippy. You sleep,” she said, tucking me in like she used to.

But I couldn’t sleep. When she was gone, I leaned under the bed and dragged out the trunk. Women’s Words and Their Meanings: he said he was on every page. I brought it into bed with me, smelled the leather and turned to the first page. I read every word. A year, it had taken him.

When our work in the Scriptorium was done, I was glad to still have the Radcliffe to go to. Perhaps Gareth would end up there, I thought as I walked towards it. What might he be missing? An arm, a leg? His mind, like Bertie?

“Evenin’, missus,” said Angus. “Vespermanĝo’s been and gone. Me and Bertie had a lovely chat about the potatoes. I reckon they was mashed with akvo. He silently agreed.”

“I’m quite well, Angus. Thank you.”

“Well, that don’t make a lotta sense. I didn’t ask how you was, but I suppose I might as well. You all right?”

“Oh, just tired.”

“Well, there’s a new one on the ward. A loudmouth. No respect. Giving the nurses a terrible time. One-armed sniper I heard them call him, on account of his sharp shooting in France and his sharp talking in here. Been at the Radcliffe a while, they say. The other ward must have had enough of him.” I followed Angus’s gaze.

The new patient was familiar from my first day at the infirmary. When he saw me looking over, he puckered his thin lips into a kiss. I ignored him and turned to Bertie.

“You still collecting words?” It was the one-armed sniper. “That coward won’t give you none. Clammed up at the first sign of trouble, he did.”

“Just ignore him, missus.”

“Good advice, Angus.”

But ignoring didn’t work.

“I’ve got a word that’ll blow you away.”