At the same moment the Thorns were on the patio. It was late now and Damien was asleep; the house was quiet and dark around them. Classical music was playing softly on the hi-fi, and they sat without speaking, gazing out into the night. Katherine's face was swollen and bruised, and she methodically bathed her injured eye with a cloth which she dipped from time to time into a bowl of warm water before her. They had not uttered a word since the events of the afternoon, but merely shared one another's presence. The fear that passed between them was a fear that other parents had known: the first realization that there was something wrong with their child. It crystallized in silence, but it was not real unless voiced.

Katherine tested the bowl of water with her hand, and, finding it cold, she wrung the cloth out, pushing it away. The movement caused Thorn to gaze at her, and he waited until she was aware of it.

"Sure you don't want to call a doctor?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

"Just a few scratches."

"I mean ... for Damien," said Thorn.

All she could offer was a helpless shrug.

"What would we tell him?" she whispered.

"We don't have to tell him anything. Just ... have him examine him."

"He had a checkup just last month. There's nothing wrong with him. He's never been sick a day in his life."

Thorn nodded, pondering it.

"He never has, has he?" he remarked curiously.

"No."

"That's strange, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"I think so."

His tone was odd and she turned to look at him. Their eyes held, Katherine waiting for him to continue.

"I mean ... no measles or mumps ... or chicken-pox. Not even a runny nose or a cough. Or a cold."

"So?" she asked defensively.

"I just. . . think it's unusual."

"I don't."

"I do."

"He comes from healthy stock."

Thorn was stopped, and a knot within him tightened. The secret was still there. Down in the pit of his stomach. It had never left him, in all these years, but mostly, he had felt justified about it; guilty for the deception, but soothed by all the happiness it had brought. When things were going well, it was easy to hold it down, keep it dormant. But now it was somehow becoming important, and he felt it burgeoning in him as though it would clog his throat.

"If your family or mine," continued Katherine, "had a history of ... psychosis, mental disorder . .. then frankly I'd worry about what happened today."

He looked at her, then averted his eyes.

"But I've been thinking about it," she continued, "and I know it's all right. He's a fine, healthy boy. Healthy ancestry right up and down both our family trees."

Unable to look at her, Thorn slowly nodded.

"He had a fright, that's all," added Katherine. "Just a . . . bad moment. Surely every child is entitled to that."