Philip’s olive leaves shed light and shadows that moved over my face.

I put the car keys down on the paper and closed the drawer.

The change was not sudden. I don’t know if I was responsible in any way for it. I simply became aware that new James was peeling away scrap by scrap like birchbark, leaving a soft tender patch underneath. I watched this happen, treading carefully, fearing at any moment he might re-armor himself. But he continued to emerge. He was quieter than before, less obviously energetic. I was changing too, becoming more hesitant, thoughtful. In this state I was able to look back at a whole piece of time, one that stretched from my arrival in England all the way to a full year after Catherine’s death, and see it as a single storm of joy and love and excitement and terrible grief. A storm that had now passed. I was in a new, empty territory where the shadows fell differently in the streets, the daily business of life was slightly more daunting. We took evening strolls arm in arm. We shared crossword clues. We were able to give each other our full attention, as childless couples do.

I don’t have any kind of singing voice but I began to sing in the house. I switched on the wireless for Housewives’ Choice, a program whose jaunty, noodling introductory melody stuck in my head all day and poured out of my mouth every evening until one night when we were undressing for bed, James began to laugh. “Stop this torture, I beg you. I promise I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Standing there in my slip, I began to smile. “The secret submarine bases?”

“Yes. And the signal codes.”

“What else?”

“The name of my pet rabbit.”

“You had a rabbit?”

“Yes. A Dutch rabbit. I got him when I was six.” He pulled off his shirt and collar, frowning in mock indignation. “Why is that so unlikely?”

I stepped out of my slip. “So what was it called, this pet rabbit?”

“He. Gordon.”

I marveled at this hitherto unknown creature. “Why did you never tell me?”

“The subject never came up, I suppose.”

“What was he like?”

“Half black and half white. Right round his middle. It was like having two rabbits for the price of one. He was awfully good fun. He liked obstacle courses. Yvette, I’m so sorry. You were right.”

By now I was sitting at my dressing table brushing my hair. I looked up at his reflection, he was standing behind me.

“About what?”

I was genuinely at a loss. Still thinking about Gordon.

“I did see her.”

My back prickled all over. I turned around to look at his real face.