But then, under my ordinary words: an odd feeling. Joseph belonged not only to me, to Emily, to us, to our garden, then. His comrades, yes, he belonged to them. But to his wife? I tried to imagine her. I could not.

I spent several days trying to conjure an image of his wife in my mind. Was she tall or short, dark-haired or fair? And then: her plight. Her husband fled: a fugitive in his own country. A vanished man. This, this was truly unimaginable.

There was Joseph’s mother-in-law, I’d heard about her from the beginning. It was a house of females, then. Holding the fort. And wiretapped, their phones wiretapped, I knew that for sure, I knew about that happening. And followed by unmarked cars, wherever they went. On the other hand, Howard had said perhaps the police didn’t know much about him and his work in the first place. How difficult — and dangerous — it must have been for his wife to meet with him.

But these thoughts were too much, far too much, for me. I had too many fears already. Somehow I had to stop thinking — worrying — about his wife, his children.

And my obsession, what came to be an obsession now, were the newspaper reports, small and camouflaged as I knew they were.

I kept my own informal tally: at a smaller mine, on West Reef, an explosion again, no one injured, but steel machinery damaged, the operations were reported closed for several days. Sabotage.

I’d imagine, then, the comrades in their smoky room that night, their flashing smiles. Victory. I wished I could talk to Joseph then. Howard, Howard was busy at work, and to him I said nothing.

WE ALL HAD COLDS that winter. One after the other, the children, then Howard, who never got sick, then me. Josias started coughing too, I’d hear him at the back of the kitchen, or in the yard, a hacking cough. Sidney came, Sidney was called each time, Sidney with his bag, his thermometer, his soothing voice. Sidney examined Josias in the kitchen, Josias sitting on the kitchen chair, I and the children watching. I’d never seen Josias sick.

Only Emily didn’t get sick. Emily was strong.

One day though she came and told me Joseph was sick, he took a long time coming to the door this morning, he’s coughing, he said he doesn’t feel well, she said. I gave her a bottle of aspirin and told her to make him a large pot of tea, honey and lemon, I told her to go a few times a day, not only twice, her usual visits. I told her to ask him about a doctor, what to do about seeing a doctor. This was a new problem.

That night I told Howard. We could ask Sidney to come and have a look at him, he said. Are you crazy, I said. I don’t trust Sidney. We can’t take Sidney down to that room, I said. I had an image in my mind: Sidney, his trousers and buttoned shirt, his balding head, his black doctor’s bag, walking unsteadily down the dry winter grass, to that room. The heater with its glowering red bar in the corner against the wall, next to the kettle, and the small, white fridge. What would Sidney think?