She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. Her belly was being touched, she felt her thighs caressed softly. But Enschede took them as they came, without question. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. She wanted to kiss his feet. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. “Do YOU go across the Park?” “Not usually. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door.
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