‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. If you are going that way, why not join us. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. Melusine opened her eyes at him. “I wanted to make love to you. And then her pace slackened. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. She felt very cool as he opened the door for her, as if she should have chic sunglasses and stiletto heels on, dark red lipstick. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut.
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