“There’s been an odd cycle at work in my body, Alex. For years, nothing changes. Nothing ages. But then, well, it’s as if I go through a sudden rush. It all catches up with me and, eh, I can put on years, almost overnight. I can tell when it’s due to happen, because I go through a period beforehand where I begin to feel run-down—like flu, y’know. For some reason, it seems to affect one side of my body more than the other. A little numbness and stiffness in the limbs, lack of dexterity, general butter fingers.

“And, well, yes: I’ve been feeling that way recently. These exertions have been taking it out of me more than usual. You might find I’m not thinking at my clearest. Missing things. My decisions might not make much sense.”

“But then what happens?” Alex was lost listening to his grandfather’s tale. “I mean, how many years older do you get?”

“Well, hard to say. Varies. Four or five, a few more, a little less. Anyway, point is: when it really comes on, I’m not much use for a few days. It’s like a fever. That’s why the timing of all this is so bad—well, that and the fact that it’s the last day of April, which wouldn’t be good for this kind of thing under any circumstances.”

“But, Grandad, I mean, how many more . . . how much older can you get?”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself over that. Besides, I’m not feeling too bad yet, Alex, just a little peaky. Plenty of time. After it happens, after I age a bit, I usually feel particularly spry, actually. In the meantime—how’s about a lemon drop? I found a little place still makes them the right way. They’re really incredible. Give us a bit of a boost.”

Alex half-consciously took a powdery yellow candy from the paper bag his grandfather proffered. It was indeed delicious, although it did nothing to ease his anxiety. But the old man had already dropped down the other side of the wall, impatient to move on. Alex did his best to push his worries away and followed. There was nothing else to do.

They crept with caution until they stood at the edge of the trees.

“This must be the place,” Alex’s grandfather whispered. “Ugly old pile.”

Ahead, across a stretching lawn and past an ornamental garden gone to weed, stood a stern gray three-story house. A single door and four large shuttered windows were the only decoration on the ground floor facing them, a few more windows behind louvered slats above. Discolored concrete patches marked where repairs had been attempted. At the top left, stray creepers curled round from the side of the house, where Alex could see that the bare facade was relieved by a thick, green-red flourish of ivy.