She walked west, feet crunching gravel down Elephant Walk to the Penguin Pool, her quickening breaths creating clouds of condensation in the cold darkening air. Up ahead, one of the aquarium supervisors, Mr. Vinall, walked out of the Penguin Pool and shut the gate behind him. He was dark complexioned, his black curly hair barely contained beneath a keeper’s hat that conjured up memories of her father in the same uniform, the familiar clamor of cage doors and the squeal of trolley wheels as he’d distributed food.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Vinall.”

“Miss Cotton,” he said, and broke into a smile, “whatever brings you here on such an inhospitable night?” His gray uniform was covered in a white apron stained with fish blood, and as he drew closer the smell grew so potent that her stomach lurched—her visit might not have been such a good idea after all.

“Yes, it is rather cold, isn’t it?” she said, taking a step back. “But I want to see the swans before I leave.”

The two black swans had just arrived as a gift for Mr. Churchill, courtesy of Dr. Evatt, the Australian minister for External Affairs.

“Ah yes, beautiful specimens they are. But what do you mean, leave? Are you going away?”

“Just for a while.”

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure yet. In the springtime, I hope.”

“Just like the marmots,” he said with a smile.

She looked at him quizzically. “I’m not sure . . .”

“They like to hibernate too. But they’ve beaten you to it—they’ve already taken to their burrow.”

She took a gulp of air. “Yes, of course,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Is everything all right, Miss Cotton?”

“Yes, it is. Everything is fine, thank you.”

“We’ll miss you.” He offered his hand then seemed to think better of it, wiping it on his apron and smiling broadly.

What was it that lit up a person’s face when they smiled, she wondered, turning even the most incongruous of features into a perfect anatomical form?

“Look after yourself. And stay warm,” he said.

“You too.”

He walked away, carrying the unpleasant odor with him.