They were both conscious, however, that something had intervened between them. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. Then she moved towards the door. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. And the food! She and Marina had done most of the cooking at home. “I can assure you that it was quite unnecessary. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated.
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