She said, “You bought the house.” “What house?” “Our house. During the war.” “I did,” he said. It was slow. He considered a moment, added: “For you. You and your brothers. Your mother.” “Was it…” She smoothed her hands over her skirt, over her knees. “It was empty,” she said it like it wasn’t a question, which it was. Karel reached for his biscuit. “What an odd thing to say, Isabel. What are you wanting to know? What an odd thing to ask. It was a house, the four of you moved in, of course it was empty.
