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‘No one would credit that you are three years older than I. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge. It was a betrayal of God and her former family, but all in all was much easier. It was an easy one to smell early on, Sebastian had taught her: anything reproductive. ‘Poor Hilary. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement.
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