I organize a party for his homecoming. Julian, wearing Chinese robes, presides in the place of honor. I cannot stop looking at him. It is as if I need to feast my eyes after all the months of separation. He dispenses the presents he has brought for us. I have silks and hand-pressed paper; Duncan and Quentin have drawings, Angelica a doll’s size porcelain tea set. There are books for you and Leonard and Clive. We ask about China until there are no more questions. Julian describes landscapes, people, unfamiliar customs, the idiosyncrasies of the language, as if he has rehearsed every word. We talk until late at night. Quentin tries on Julian’s robes, and Angelica is taught the correct posture for a Chinese lady. Even you appear intrigued by Julian’s account of his writing friend Su-Hua. After everyone has gone to bed, I remain at the empty table and issue a silent prayer that such happiness will last.

The next day Julian and I walk over the downs. We link arms, like old lovers. He breaks the news I have been dreading. He says he cannot bear to sit idly by while the government does nothing, and all the while the fascists increase their hold. He mentions the names of others who have gone. He tells me he has weighed the risks and is ready to lay down his life for a cause he fully supports.

We fight like wild beasts. I did not know it was possible to fight so long or so hard. We fight until late at night when we retreat to bed exhausted, our arguments in stalemate, only to return at first light with restored energy and fresh ammunition for a new attack. I deploy every weapon I can think of. When my own powers of persuasion fail, I call on you, Clive, Maynard, to step in. At length we beat out a weary compromise. Julian will not enlist with the International Brigade but will join Spanish Medical Aid as a volunteer driver.

It is the best I can do. I have used every tactic at my disposal. All I can hope for, now, is to limit the risk. I watch Julian disappear in the ambulance he has raised money to buy and equip, and clutch hold of the gatepost. I am not sure how long I stay like this. All I know is that when I go back into the house it is dark. I turn on the lamps and stoke the fire in the sitting room, searching for something to do. Finally I go out into the garden, hoping that here, in the stillness, I will recapture a little of the serenity I felt when Julian first came home.