In bed, Helen’s mind turns to Cecil. What his life must be like in the shop, day after day after day. The loneliness he keeps private. And that moment the man who he believed was the great love of his life explained how he was going to Spain and would not be returning. The life they had known together was at an end, except in memory. Drifting off, Helen sees Cecil in her garden. It’s warm and his shirt is ringed with sweat at the armpits. He’s cutting back the bushes and telling Helen about this and that, flowers and bees and wind.
