I never told Daan. I tried many times, I wanted to, but now he’s dead. I’m sure it’s why our marriage ended. I have wondered if Rosalie knows. Maybe not the details, but my part in it. I’ve always felt she knows. That was the end of many, many things, one of which was any desire I had to go anywhere. No more travel. Look at what Sybil on travel had turned out—a dead child. My second son, gone like that. You can imagine the aftermath: grief and guilt on repeat for forty years. I guess in one way I am a writer. I am a correspondent. It’s been terribly difficult writing this, yes, because of my
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