It is as if a giant has reached down and torn the wall off a doll’s house. The central spine of the staircase still stands, but behind it all I can see are the remains of rooms, a mirror with its glass smashed hanging over a fireplace, the legs of a table poking through a mound of rubble, an overturned bath. Though there have been pictures of the London bombings in the papers, nothing has prepared me for this. The building has been roped off and a warden comes toward me as I approach. I explain who I am and she lets me pass. As we climb the stairs I feel as if the entire edifice could collapse at any moment. I press my scarf to my nose to protect myself from the dust. When we reach my landing I see the door to my studio has been blown off its hinges. With the warden’s help I wrench it free and step over a heap of fallen debris. Inside, it is as if the giant has ransacked everything I possess. My couch has been flung against the wall, my easel broken and upended, the crockery and books from my shelves strewn across the floor. I realize at once that my paintings are beyond repair. I stare at what is left of a canvas I must have propped under the window. The images have deformed into grotesque caricatures in the heat from the blast. I turn away. There is nothing to salvage here.

The book feels solid and heavy in my hands. I turn it over and stare at my son’s name on the front cover. I carry it to the bookcase and let my finger run across the spines. This is not the only book you have made for me. At last I find what I am looking for. I pull out your biography of Roger and open it at the first page. I read your description of his childhood garden, the stunted and grimy apple tree, the poppies flowering by chance in a corner. Your words take me back to Cambridge, to a seat on a train and an as yet unknown man. The train races through the fields and the man calls out “Look, look!” I follow his gaze, and marvel at crimson poppies aflame against the ripening wheat. I am a young woman again, Julian is still a boy. Your words have this power.