I focus in on the house. It soothes me to be amongst Julian’s things and I decide to redecorate his room. I am struck by how tidy he has left everything. His desk is bare, his clothes folded and stowed away in the chest. I take his books down from the shelves and stack them in boxes. I move the bed away from the window and cover it with an old sheet. Then I prepare my paints. I do not think as I work, but force myself to concentrate on the colors and shapes before me. I design a frieze round the window, gray vases filled with lilies, the symbols of peace. Above the pelmet I paint yellow suns circled by blue dots. I fill the spaces between the suns with brown latticework, smaller circles, red and white flowers. Suddenly, from out of the corner of my eye, I see something move. For a moment I think it must be Quentin, but as the face tilts toward me I realize it is Julian. I spin round, incredulous. The figure vanishes. I stand stock still, one hand on the window ledge to steady myself. I look carefully round the room. There is nothing there. My eye comes to rest on a small key that has been left in the lock in the top drawer of Julian’s desk. I take the key out, intending to put it somewhere for safekeeping. My movement pulls the drawer, which is not locked, partly open. There is a pile of papers inside. On top is a note with the words “to be opened in the event of my death” in Julian’s hand.