I take Angelica into the sitting room. Somehow it seems easier to tell her here. Together we admire a burst of purple crocuses under the trees. She says nothing as I speak. The only sign that she is listening is a sudden tightening of her hand on my arm. I want her to protest, ask me questions, blame me for concealing the truth. She does none of these things. When I have finished she slips her hand free and goes into the garden. As she makes her way across the lawn I see the blackbird again. It has a worm held prisoner in its beak. Later that evening I knock on Angelica’s door. There is no answer, though I know she is there. I sit on the landing, hoping she will come out and talk. I wait in vain.

The world turns Chinese. On the radio, by chance, I hear a program on Hankow, the bustle of the streets and singsong of the market traders transmitted straight into my sitting room. I go to the exhibition on Chinese art at the Royal Academy and return with gaudily painted plates and a silk fan. I buy a map of China and learn its geography in idle moments.

Julian’s letter announcing his intention to teach English in China arrives while I am in Cassis. I sense from his tone that this is a decision I cannot alter. I try to imagine three years without Julian and my mind balks at the thought. I hurry back to England to spend what time I can with him.

We stand together on the quay at Newhaven, waiting for the ferry. I dare not let go of Julian’s arm. I know that once I do it will be a long time before I can touch him again. We make an odd couple. I am aware of the glances we are attracting. The whistle sounds and I hug Julian to me in a last embrace. He turns to wave as he boards the boat before disappearing into the crowd of passengers.