“The doctors in Nassau, like the rest of the population, proved remarkably susceptible to corruption.” He reached for his cane and moved to the door. “And of course, I assured them I’d keep the closest possible eye on you.”

So Thorpe carried me home to the bungalow in the sidecar of his motorcycle and fed me the dinner that Veryl had left out for us. He allowed me neither cigarettes nor the demon liquor, although after he sent me to bed with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin, I spotted him through the window on the patio chair, imbibing both without shame.

I suppose you imagine we woke restlessly at midnight, the two of us, and found our way together to make furious love by the light of a tropical moon. I’m awfully sorry to disappoint you. There was no waking, no restlessness. I suppose we were both too exhausted. Besides, we were cripples.

Instead, I slept like death. By the time I rose the next morning, the sofa was empty, the parlor neat, the blanket folded square on the armchair.

Elfriede

July 1905

(Florida)

One week before Wilfred’s return to England, Elfriede learns she has not conceived a baby. She informs her lover as soon as they’re alone together, taking their usual walk in the garden once the children are in bed.

He draws a sigh. Relief or disappointment, she can’t tell. “Ah. I was wondering about that. You’re sure?”

“Quite sure.”

He stops by the orange tree and draws an arm around her shoulder. Together they lean against the trunk. The blossoms have all fallen, the bees have moved on. The air’s grown hotter, if possible, filled with the sultry scent of the rotting buds. “That’s what I meant to ask you about, that first night.”

“And I told you the answer was yes.”

“I wasn’t entirely sure you understood the question. But I could have done something about it, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

Wilfred turns to face her in the twilight. “Well? Should I do something about it? There’s a chemist in town.”

“A chemist?”

“A—what do you call it. A drugstore. He ought to be able to find something for me, if I ask the right way. Of course, there are alternatives.”

She smiles. “You say that as if . . .”

“As if what, my dear?”

“As if it matters.”

He reaches out to touch her hair. “Of course it matters. I’d never forgive myself if I burdened you with a child you don’t want to bear. I haven’t forgotten why you were in Switzerland to begin with.”