He rarely came home from a day out without a rattle or a toy to keep the baby entertained. One night after dinner at Cornwall Gardens, Cordelia had passed the drawing room in her mother’s house and seen Alastair sitting on the sofa with the baby—a swaddled mass of blankets with two pink fists visible, waving as Alastair sang, in a low voice, a Persian melody Cordelia half remembered: You are the moon in the sky, and I am the star that circles around you. It was a song their father had sung to them when they were very small. How things came full circle, Cordelia could not help but think, in the
...more
Cool crying on how sweet this is
