There was a stunned silence. As they drove past the beautiful, unassuming outline of Longparish’s church, which had offered centuries of quiet devotion to the villagers, Lucy felt a stab of pain, and spoke fervently. “No wonder God was so angry with Eve—for eating the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. According to Genesis, knowledge bestowed godlike powers. It was Eve who was responsible for moving us away from naïveté, closer to the status of gods who can think and act through reason. Yet only by lapsing back into such ignorance could we believe all this Rapture nonsense. In your family, Alex, the women wouldn’t be dissuaded from the pursuit of knowledge, or made to feel guilty for wanting to know more. They refused unquestioning obedience to a vengeful God. The mulberry, the tree of wisdom, is where they chose to hide Dee’s documents. They preferred the classical model of Ariadne, as rescuer of man from the labyrinth, to that of Eve as the cause of the Fall and all man’s unhappiness.”

Alex looked at her with quiet appreciation. He kissed her. “What a lot you make me think about. ‘Sapere aude,’ Kant said. ‘Dare to Know.’ He was on Eve’s side.”

The hour of fervent discussion had brought them to Will and Alex’s family home. The outside light flicked on automatically as Simon pulled into the driveway, but no one moved. It was a minute before Simon turned to face Lucy. “But do you dare to know where Will’s key will lead? What Pandora’s box it may unlock?”

She didn’t answer; but seconds later, the upright figure of Henry Stafford opened the front door, delighted to receive guests.

“Well, are you going to sit out there all night, or are you coming in for a drink?”

23

“CHAMPAGNE, DAD?” ALEX LAUGHED. “THAT’S EXTRAVAGANT FOR A SUNDAY evening. What’s wrong with your Laphroaig?” Alex took the icy bottle from the bucket, eased the cork into his hand, and poured some into each glass. Lucy alone, who since surgery had savored just the occasional glass, waved him graciously away.

“It’s Mother’s Day today, Alex. I hoped we might drink to absent friends?” Henry raised his glass with the new arrivals. “I don’t want to leave you out, Simon. The cleaner was here on Friday; fresh linen on all the beds. The guest room is ready—if you’d like to enjoy a few drinks with dinner and drive back first thing tomorrow?”

“Henry, how kind. It would be churlish to refuse—if everyone else is happy with an early start?” Simon looked at the relaxing faces around him all nodding their agreement—a very different mood from that of the car journey. “But, Grace, I wish you’d warned me to ring my mother. I’ll get a terrible bollocking tomorrow.”