I gazed at the tiny verdant metal flower, feeling grotesquely unreasonable if not irrational. “Did you find the other one?”

“This was it. It took a while to find.” Bella gave her head a gentle shake, uncovering her other ear. “And here’s its twin,” she said.

I felt compelled to move us away from my gaffe. “I hope your trek was worth it,” I said. “How did you get there?”

“There was a bus and Roy was on it. That was worth it by itself.”

I tried not to be as embarrassed by her openness as I fancied Roy might feel. “Who’s for coffee?” I said.

“I’ll have one, dad.”

“I’ve lived without it. I won’t start now,” Bella said in her curiously old-fashioned way. “I’ll have water if it isn’t from the tap.”

I passed her a bottle of spring water from the refrigerator, and seemed to see her fingers grow pale on the far side of the chilly plastic, as if I were viewing them underwater. Roy was pouring coffee with his back to us, and I didn’t think he heard her murmur “I hope you don’t think I’m a bad influence.”

“Not remotely.” I patted her hand, which was as cold as the contents of the bottle. For a moment mine was too, and I restrained a shiver. “I’d say you were the opposite,” I said under my breath, and she smiled as broadly as she could.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

A Hint of the Familiar

That night I thought I heard them testing a message at the railway station. Was it an announcement about the first train? The repetition of a solitary syllable had wakened me: not first after all – closer to birth, perhaps, but not that either, nor worth or mirth. Now I recognised Roy’s voice, muffled by a dream. In the year during which Julia and I argued so much that we could only agree our marriage had to end, Roy had started talking in his sleep. This had been another reason why we’d separated – that our behaviour was disturbing him – but what did his activity mean now? At least he didn’t sound as if he was struggling to leave a dream or stay in one, as he’d sounded then. His mumbling subsided, and almost before I gathered he was sound asleep, I was myself.

At breakfast – coffee, juice, toast and eggs scrambled vigorously enough that my wrist ached as I imagined a scrivener’s might have in the old days – Roy looked sufficiently rested. “Were you dreaming last night?” I risked asking.

“Some.”

“You were quite vocal about it. Do you remember the subject?”

“Bell.”

I thought discretion might need me to leave it at that, but decided it was safe to ask “Do you know what you were trying to say?”

“Didn’t know I was.”

“Could it have been earth? That’s my best guess.”