She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. ’ ‘Yes, but I need a word with Gerald,’ protested the captain, hanging back. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation.
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