Stephen slumped in his chair and let his thoughts drift back to the time he and Ginie had just bought their Rhodesian land and were wondering what to call it. The early history of the Courtaulds in western France was in their minds: the family originally came from La Rochelle in Île d’Oléron. “Oléron” seemed an awkward name for an English tongue to get around, but “La Rochelle” was sonorous and easy. He and Ginie privately agreed on the name.

After they had concluded the deal to buy, the old title deeds were brought to them in the lawyer’s office, and they were astonished to find that the property’s original name was La Rochelle.

‘Well blow me down, this is meant!’ Stephen exclaimed. It seemed like a small miracle, another confirmation that this was the right place for them.

But how could it have been right if it ended like this? After all the years spent reading and writing, trying to understand the world, trying to understand his place in it, the only thing Stephen felt sure of was how was how little he truly knew about anything.

A fresh wave of grief swept through him. Don’t leave me here. Don’t make me live the rest of my life without you. He pressed his knuckles into his eyes so hard that brilliant specks of light began to fizz and dance in front of them. He shook his head and forced himself to banish what he had found to be the worst poison of all; self-pity.

And at that moment, Ginie opened her eyes.

Epilogue: Catherine, England, 1990s

EPILOGUE

Catherine, England, 1990s

My mother was sent to a secure mental institution in Salisbury. I visited her a few times, she was submissive and vacant. Seeing her like that I couldn’t help but wonder if she had derived any release or satisfaction from shooting Ginie. In her scrambled mind, I hoped there had been one moment when it had been worth the price she paid.

No sign of feeling showed on her face. She was a good patient, the matron told me, co-operative and easy. The matron was a scrap of a girl who looked too young to have the responsibility of running an entire institution. In fact, Mum was so well-behaved that none of the staff noticed that she was quietly hoarding her pills. They didn’t notice her swallow the whole lot one night, before she went to sleep. She never woke up. Her ashes were sent to her beloved Surrey to be scattered.