In the morning, I would find both of them lying on the sofa like a pair of basking seals, close to each other, their ears cocked watchfully, or standing on the windowsill looking out at the world, their breath creating minute circles of fog against the glass. They would run leisurely for the open door as I entered, cautious but unafraid. Soon both leverets would climb up the stairs to sleep in my room, in a pattern uncannily similar to their mother’s when she was young. The sense of safety that had drawn her there seemed to appeal to them too. In the afternoon, they played in the garden.
