Poor Aurelius. o notice as I slipped my arm t turned to face me fully. “Per’s better not to ory at all, rat keeps c my ory and never quite catc. Running after my story when I had Mrs. Love all along. She loved me, you know.”

    ‘I never doubted it.“ So ter tter not to knoed.

    one to te sky. “Do you think so?”

    ‘No.“

    ‘t it?“

    I slid my arm from ucked my cold . “It’s less story is better t’s too heavy.”

    ‘So. My story is a heavy one.“

    I said notold  ory but my own.

    ‘I er,“ I began. ”A twin.“

    urned to face me.  tened gravely to tory I poured out to him.

    ‘e  me. S to beat for  I couldn’t live rengted us, and she died.“

    My ot over my scar, and I pressed hard.

    ‘My motold me. S it ter for me not to know.“

    ‘A weigory.“

    ‘Yes.“

    ‘But you do know.“

    I pressed  by accident.”

    ‘I am sorry,“ he said.

    I felt my aken by o one great fist. to s I felt tness of o my ear. It is ting of , I t. A . By my side. So t it’s like. I listened.

    t.

    ‘And is it better to know?“ he asked me.

    ‘I can’t tell you. But once you kno’s impossible to go back.“

    ‘And you knoory.“

    ‘Yes.“

    ‘My true story.“

    ‘Yes.“

    ated. Just took a breato grotle bigger.

    ‘You ter tell me, then,“ he said.

    I told. And anding at ting teness of the snow.

    it in ated. “I  the rules.”

    I t it oo. “But w else can we do?”

    ‘t hey?“

    ‘Not.“

    ‘Come on, then.“

    e used to gouge a ipped t, and o cover t, and to urbance.

    ‘It  ing of trouser legs.

    ‘Aurelius, to your story.“

    I led o anot of t your mot you oo.” I indicated Ambrose’s gravestone.

    t   explains ther.“

    I paused. It  for Aurelius to take in. er a long moment  on. “he was a good man. You are very like him.”

    Aurelius stared. Dazed. More knowledge. More loss. “he is dead. I see.”

    ‘t’s not all,“ I said softly. urned o mine, and I read in t to be no end to tory of .

    I took  him.

    ‘After you were born, Ambrose married. her child.“

    It took a moment for o realize  meant, and ement brougo life. “You mean… I have… And she… he… she—”

    ‘Yes! A sister!“

    the smile grew broad on his face.

    I  on. “And surn. A boy and a girl!”

    ‘A niece! And a nephew!“

    I took o mine to stop ting you.”

    I could e and strode doo te gate te was because of me.

    ‘Aurelius! I almost forgot to give you this.“

    ook te envelope and opened it, distracted by joy.  t? Not really?”

    ‘Yes. Really.“

    ‘today?“

    ‘today!“ Somet t moment. I did someted to do, eited at top of my voice, ”hDAY!“

    I must  mad. In any case, I felt embarrassed. Not t Aurelius cared. anding motionless, arms stretc on eiturned skyhe snow.

    In Karen’s garden ts of cprints and smaller ones folloo be seen, but as  nearer we ree.

    ‘Let’s play Snow e.“

    ‘t’s a girls’ story.“

    ‘ story do you  to play?“

    ‘A story about rockets.“

    ‘I don’t  to be a rocket. Let’s be boats.“

    ‘e s yesterday.“

    ce, t of tree, and ell broter.

    ‘It’s the cake man!“

    Karen stepped out of tell you his is your uncle.”

    Aurelius looked from Karen to to Karen, o take in everyted to.  for  Karen reac a tentative ook it in his.

    ‘It’s all a bit…“ he began.

    ‘Isn’t it?“ s  used to it,  we?“

    he nodded.

    taring y at t scene.

    ‘ are you playing?“ Karen asked, to distract them.

    ‘e don’t knohe girl said.

    ‘e can’t decide,“ said her.

    ‘Do you knoories?“ Emma asked Aurelius.

    ‘Only one,“ old her.

    ‘Only one?“ Sounded. ” got any frogs in it?“

    ‘No.“

    ‘Dinosaurs?“

    ‘No.“

    ‘Secret passages?“

    ‘No.“

    t eac  mucory, clearly.

    ‘e knoories,“ tom said.

    ‘Loads,“ sles, fairy godmothers—“

    ‘Caterpillars, rabbits, eleps—“

    ‘All sorts of animals.“

    ‘All sorts.“

    to silence, absorbed in semplation of countless different worlds.

    Aurelius chey were a miracle.

    turned to tories,” the boy said.

    ‘Sell you a story?“ the girl asked.

    I t perories for one day, but he nodded his head.

    S and placed it in t  so be sure stention of urned to the book in her hand, and she began.

    ‘Once upon a time…“

    Karen and tom and Aurelius: ts of eyes all resting on Emma and orytelling. t together.

    Unnoticed, I stepped back from te and slipped areet.

    I  publiser. tory, but it is not mine to tell. Adeline and Emmeline, t, tories t belong to Aurelius no rut tional o turn tart afresh.

    But time passes. One day Aurelius oo, om and Emma, are already more distant from ts I old o forge tories; stories t are strong and solid and true. t a name,  t to cause fear or pain. t an old story, unable to do any o anyone. And om and Emma t. to read and, if to publish.

    I  til t of t g-c me. Ss, linger in my dreams, my memory  is not muc it is not oblivion. It om and Emma release t and so exist more fully after deat.

    And so tory of t girl is not to be publis all. t does not mean,  I o give tely to satisfy its curiosity about Vida inter. For t t meeting  to leave  one more took out an envelope.

    I  envelope  of Karen’s garden and turned my steps back toes. tel tened, and o remember tograp t came to me  alo face t ed. to be mucter. It raigoward you.

    I diverged from to cross toimes fell in soft s my passing. I came at last to tage point on ts graveyard, t against tes, ce against ts s ely. ts  to a blank page. e ipping point. It o call it a demolition site. tomorrooday perurn and it ruction site. t demolis ime for to start building ture.

    I took ting. For t time. t place.

    tters on trokes eito noto tter gave ted individually, at great cost, t undertaken as a neing enterprise. It  o Miss Margaret Lea.

    I slit open t tents. And I sat on a felled tree to read it, because I never read standing up.

    Dear Margaret,old you about.

    I ried to finis, and find t I cannot. And so tory t t must do as it is. It is a flimsy t w you will.

    As for titles, t springs to my mind is “Cinderella’s C I knoe enoug readers to understand t , it itle in t  be mine.

    ture. No name.

    But tory.

    It ory of Cinderella, like I’d never read it before. Laconic, er’s sentences hal.

    Picture tory begins. A boy and a girl; one ric often it’s t no gold and t’s  is in tory I’m telling. t o be a ball. A o stumble into eacime t t of time tory is about me of times. Our girl’s pumpkin is just a pumpkin, and ser midnigticoats, violated. tman at tomorroupid. S, though.

    In t of tory, Cinderella gives birto a girl, raises y and filter a feor. tory ends abruptly.

    o before, cold and  leads into t. It remains ajar. Is  still? A, to tle  ser.  even be someto eat.

    ttle house?

    Door? Or house?

    tates.

    Sates…

    And tory ends there.

    Miss inter’s earliest memory? Or just a story? tory invented by an imaginative co fill t to have been?

    teentale. tory.

    I read tory and grieved.

    Gradually my ts turned aer and to myself. S not be perfect, but at least I  too late to make somet t ory.

    I put tood up and brus from my trousers before o the road.

    I o e tory of Miss inter’s life, and I . to fulfill terms of tract. One copy of t is to be deposited ore it in a bank vault and t of money to be paid to me. Apparently  even o c t blank.

    ‘Srusted you,“ old me.

    Clearly srust me. entions in tract t I never read or signed are quite unmistakable. Sed to tell me tory before sed me to make a record of it.  I did  after t or about my intentions regarding tom and Emma, and  to formalize my  ougo be t.

    But I don’t feel I am quite done. I don’t kno no matter ter ant in time from t, I feel a responsibility toold to kno Adeline and Emmeline and t-c for some t  be quite enoug it is like to finiser, c t t became of Judit up to live in the house.

    And so, in case you are  me tell you. Juditayed on. t sold; provision er’s o be converted into a kind of literary museum. Of course it is t ed gem,” an early icultural revie Miss inter realized t it ion for storytelling more t o be tours of teas bring tourists to te museum can come aftero “Vida inter’s Secret Garden.” Juditinue as  job, before to clear Emmeline’s rooms. t be visited, for to see.

    And er. No certainly surprised me. I ter from Emmanuel Drake. to tell you trutten all about inued  all odds, late in t alian connection t track,” ter explained, “o America!” For ter ant to an academic neurologist, and . It  after a long and ogetten to me, and I  to o keep. I doubt o make out mucen; if ion, I ell  ime of  marriage, but if  ask, I er to me,  of s’ joint publications. te dozens of icles (none on to call it a day) and publisly: Dr. E. and Mrs. h. J. Maudsley.

    er had a middle name: Josephine.

    else  to kno? ell, So live  ts on tomers come across urns tares y. From time to time  in t not for long. reet, te. I cut via to t o use it.

    ‘ do you expect?“ my fato a Yorks. It is the moors he is looking for.“

    I t. Full of expectation, So t, turns on me a long, disappointed stare.

    I don’t like to t he is homesick.

    Dr. Clifton came to my fato be visiting to it o call in, t , to see if ed in. As it ted amiably about it at lengtil er closing time. to make up for keeping us so late ed us out for a meal. It , and since ill in to, my fated  evening for a meal cold me . Very nice.” t afternoon  for a  time it  too busy ing letters to be able to accompany us. I told ory of t of Angelfield. ened closely, and o walk, slowly and in silence.

    ‘I remember seeing t treasure box,“ ually. ” come to escape the fire?“

    I stopped in my tracks,  to ask.”

    ‘You’ll never know now, will you?“

    ook my arm and we walked on.

    Anyurning to my subject, ed my fat’s sadness o give S. But t is, o a state of painful perplexity. For I am not sure I can bear to be parted from s Miss inter’s disappearance, for ; but being  all possible to keep him near me.

    In a letter I betrayed somets to Dr. Clifton;  per botay, Ses us for a mont  possible t  of t suits us all. I cannot  t .

    And t is all.