And then she became aware that something had happened to the left side of her face. She felt a soreness and an aching heaviness, like a thick plaster. It was partly obscuring the edge of her mouth and dragging at the corner of her left eye. Tentatively she raised her hand, uncertain whether she had the power to move, and carefully touched her face. The left cheek was no longer there. Her exploring fingers found only a solid mass, a little rough to the touch and criss-crossed with something that felt like tape. Someone was gently lowering her arm. A reassuring familiar voice said, “I shouldn’t touch the dressing for a time.” And then she knew that she was in the recovery room and the two figures taking shape by her bed must be Mr. Chandler-Powell and Sister Holland.

She looked up and tried to form words from her impeded mouth. “How did it go? Are you pleased?”

The words were a croak but Mr. Chandler-Powell seemed to understand. She heard his voice, calm, authoritative, reassuring. “Very well. I hope that in a little time you will be pleased, too. Now you must rest here for a while, and then Sister will wheel you up to your room.”

She lay unmoving as objects solidified round her. How many hours, she wondered, had the operation taken? One hour, two, three? However long, time had been lost to her in a semblance of death. It must be as like death as any human imagining could be, a total annihilation of time. She pondered the difference between this temporary death and sleep. To wake after sleeping, even a deep sleep, was always to be aware that time had passed. The mind grasped at the tatters of waking dreams before they faded beyond recall. She tried to test memory by reliving the previous day. She was sitting in a rain-lashed car, then arriving at the Manor, entering the great hall for the first time, unpacking in her room, talking to Sharon. But that surely had all been on her first visit, over two weeks ago. The recent past began to come back. Yesterday had been different, a pleasant uncomplicated drive, the winter sunlight interspersed with brief and sudden showers. And this time she had brought with her to the Manor some patiently acquired knowledge which she could make use of or could let go. Now, in sleepy contentment, she thought she would let it go as she was letting go of her own past. It couldn’t be relived, none of it could be changed. It had done its worst but its power would soon be over.

Closing her eyes and drifting into sleep, she thought of the peaceful night ahead and of the morning which she would never live to see.

Chapter 15

15