And Hendrik, his words now clear as a bell: “Forbid what? Say it, Mother, please say it, what is it you think you forbid me to do? You can’t say it, you can’t even think it, of course you can’t, how can you even conceive of such a thing, what life have you lived and now all alone in this house with your maids and your—curtains that need cleaning and the tea at twelve and God the boring fucking—” The slap rang out crisply. There was nothing else that sound could have been, nothing but the rush of a hand to a cheek. Then Mother’s gasp, followed by a single startled cry.
