“I feel serious.” He moved closer. “Yvette, I’m not stupid. I know there’s absolutely no hope at all. But I want to see you. Not for the painting, though I do want to paint you. I like talking to you. I like . . . I like being with you.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t even lift my head for fear of what he’d see in my eyes.

“Now you’ve made it worse,” I said in despair. “It can’t be like this.”

“Yes, it can—”

“No. I’ll bring James to meet your mother. You could meet him too. It would be nice.” I was gabbling now. “There’s no reason why we can’t all be friends.”

“I don’t want us all to be friends—”

“We must be, if I’m to ever come back!”

I spoke vehemently because I had to.

We got up off the floor. He was so much taller than me. He would have to bend to kiss me, and I would have to stand on tiptoe. I would have to, if I ever allowed myself to be gathered into his arms.

I turned on my heel and left.

—

Our house was empty when I got back, so I went straight to the church. James would be there, it was a Wednesday, and Evensong was imminent.

He was in the vestry putting on his cassock, he didn’t see me as I approached the doorway. I seldom came on him unawares and, like the time when I heard him sigh, I profited from this moment by staying quiet and immobile. He buttoned his cassock to the collar and took a white surplice out of the cupboard and pulled it over his head. It seemed to get stuck: he struggled inside it and I nearly hurried forward to help him, pull it down over his shoulders but the urge to stay hidden and spying was too strong. Eventually he got his head free. He was breathing hard, I noticed, and when he had tugged the white folds down over his cassock he went to place his elbows on the high ledge of the vestry window and bury his head in his hands.

I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he sighed once and again. Then I heard a whisper. “Dear God, Almighty God . . .” and then the whisper died away. His eyes were squeezed shut. His lips moved silently against his hands, which were now clasped in front of his mouth as if he didn’t want the words to come out but he couldn’t stop saying them.

I went into the vestry and put my hand on his arm.

He jumped. “Yvette! You gave me a fright!” New James was armoring himself rapidly. “How are you, darling? Have you been out?”

“What were you praying for?”

“World peace.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe people are fighting again.”