” “I wanted to, John. ” “The difficulties on my own side I can deal with,” he answered. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. Three short days. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. The mother, Cathy Beck, was as patient and as charitable of an individual that Lucy had ever known, a big kindly Polish-American woman with the heart of an angel. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun.
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