Suddenly, a cry pierces the stillness. I recognize it instantly. It is Quentin, waking from his nap, hungry and wanting my attention. I wipe my brush. For the first time, I look at what I have done. My dish and apples are colossal. They are hewn from granite, monumental. I approve. The way they dominate my composition is right. Duncan is still painting. I steal a look at his canvas and am aghast. While my objects are statuesque, almost ugly in their solidity, his are shapely, iridescent. In his picture the fruit and bottle and table are part of an intricate exchange of shadow and light. My eye follows the reiteration of curves that runs from apple to dish to the jars on the shelves. I note the subtle gradations of hue and compare it to my own crude use of color. I know that I am in the presence of a great artist. My sense of mediocrity as I climb the stairs is familiar.

To my surprise, I find you in the boys’ room, sitting in the chair by the window with Quentin on your lap. He has stopped crying and is playing with a toy rabbit you have given him. Julian is kneeling on the floor at your feet, listening eagerly to your story. I perch on one of the beds, reluctant to interrupt. You look at me but before we can speak, Julian tugs at your sleeve, urging you to continue. I close my eyes. Your story is about the fairies that play at the bottom of the garden. I remember Mother’s tales of the creatures that lived in the old sheep’s skull Thoby found washed up on the beach at St. Ives. To calm your fears Mother wound her green shawl round its horns, and as she tucked you into bed said how it was like a mountain, with valleys and flowers and goats running about. I get up and wander to the window. Duncan has finished painting and is smoking in the garden, his back resting against one of the trees. I think how beautiful he looks as he stares up at the sky. When I turn away you are watching me. You gaze to where Duncan is still standing under the tree. It is impossible to conceal my love from you.

Leonard is waiting for me as the taxi pulls up in front of your house. He comes toward me as I pay the fare. I can see by his face how anxious he is. Ka has already arrived and we hug each other as Leonard lists your symptoms. We decide Leonard and I should consult Savage at once.