As soon as I opened the door and went out into the hall, I began to cry. I went into my own room and lay face down on the bed. I was alone now, there was nobody in the world who knew me, or who loved me. I had lost whatever anchor I had had in the world: nothing I did mattered to anyone. I went to the telephone and I rang Mr. Walters, who must have had an extension beside the bed, because he picked up the phone immediately and said that he would dress himself and come to the apartment as soon as he could.

I thought of the crowds strolling in the streets of the city, the cinemas emptying out, the bars, the restaurants, people driving home, hailing taxis, waiting for buses. The whole bright busy world. And my mother lying dead in a darkened room. I went and sat beside her body until Mr. Walters came.

We buried her on a warm spring day beside my father in the family vault. Mr. Walters conducted the service in English. A large number came from the English community. They politely shook my hand and left me alone with my aunt and uncles and some cousins in the front pew. Jorge and his parents came; Señor and Señora Sanmartín; some neighbors. I wrote to Aunt Matilda, but I did not post the letter until the funeral was over. My aunt and uncles came back with me to the apartment; they told me that they would have the lease of the apartment put in my name and it was mine for the rest of my life. I could not wait for them to leave. Mr. Walters and his wife had invited me for supper and made up a bed so that I would stay the night with them. The community was slowly disappearing, they said, people were always being left alone. They knew what it was like. But I was young, Mr. Walters said, and Argentina was my home. In the morning I went back to work. I did not go to the apartment until I had finished my day. I kept the door of my mother’s bedroom closed and I did not go in there. I would wait for a while, I thought, wait until I was ready.

I BROKE THE spell when I brought the first man into the apartment. For the months after she died, and right through that summer, I felt as though someone had numbed all of my nerves. I felt nothing, no desire, no hunger, no thirst, no tiredness even, just an ability to face each day calmly, expecting nothing.