“It’s a mile and a ,” ing into the woods, “longer by road.”

        e crossed t    so old you, tom. It’s too . t o a    in disappoi at seeing tationary es and macers over t tell t. t up    in a brief ferenatoshes.

        Aurelius    by tableau.

        ‘I’ve seen they are?“

        ‘treet. ter the deer here.“

        ‘Do till    here?“

        ‘No. S looks after they’re a nice family.“

        Enviously er ttention o me,” uff—” ure and turo’s go home.”

        t back toes, he same decision.

        Aurelius and I    friendship.

        to cut out t and tery sky. Stret arm to pusra raindrops to add to t fell on us from tree and leaned over it, staring into ts    eing bark almost to fur.

        then, “home,” Aurelius pronounced.

        It otage. Built for enduraion, but attractive all ts simple and solid lines. Aurelius led me around t a ell. It    t a o. Except t at tension, almost as large as tself, and taken up entirely .

        ‘My sanctuary,“ he said as he showed me in.

        A massive stainless-steel oven,    fridges—it    for a real cook.

        Aurelius pulled out a c at a small table by a bookcase. talian. One book, u on table. It ebook, ers blunt    ransparent after decades of being tery fingers. Someoen RECIPIES on t, in old-fasals. Some years later ter    t pen.

        ‘May I?“ I asked.

        ‘Of course.“

        I opeo leaf t. Victoria sponge, date and    loaf, ses, ginger cake, maids of art, ric cake… ting improving as turned.

        Aurelius turned a dial on tly, assembled s. After t everytret arm for a sieve or a knife    looking. c smootly, knoly o do,    in front of s. ter into dice, zested an e. It ural as breathing.

        ‘You see t cupboard?“ o your left? ould you open it?“

        ted a piece of equipment, I opehe cupboard door.

        ‘You’ll find a bag hanging on a peg inside.“

        It cs sides    stitc just tucked in. It fastened rap, attacy clasp at eaco    diagonally across your body. t mig the color of age.

        ‘ is it?“ I asked.

        For a sed o me.

        ‘It’s the bag I was found in.“

        urned babining s.

        tco Aurelius. Eve over    tall. I    orybook giant    eyes on oday trap    even go around    sixty years ago o fit inside. Dizzy at t of ime    do, I sat do cs vas around e trap over o carry , to Mrs. Love’s? I ran my fingers over toucrap. Seeking some tray touc reveal if only it kne know how.

        ‘It’s exasperating, isn’t it?“ Aurelius said.

        I o t him behind me, looking over my shoulder.

        ‘You open it—I’ve got flour on my hands.“

        I undid ts of vas. to a flat circle in ter of wangle of paper and rag.

        ‘My inance,“ he announced.

        ting to be s into t    tensity of a boy staring at a treasure trove. “tory,” ell me    a matter of… of uanding t ent but resigned. “I’ve tried all my life to piece toget o place. take t, for instance—”

        It e, noa from ts and smoot out. It tern of stars and floy mottons; it ’s dress iny garment, ing to toug to mark it    fit over a finger now.

        ‘It’s earing,“ Aurelius explained.

        ‘It’s very old.“

        ‘As old as me, I suppose.“

        ‘Older t, even.“

        ‘Do you think so?“

        ‘Look at titc’s been mended more tto matchis before you.“

        ted from to me and back to th, hungry for knowledge.

        ‘A a page of print. It orn from a book and riddled aking it in my arted to read.

        ‘… not at first aion; but and in act to , I instinctively started aside h a cry of alarm—“

        Aurelius took up tinued, reading not from t from memory: “… not soon enoug    me, and I fell, striking my    tting it.”

        Of course I reized it. , for I    goodness knows imes. “Jane Eyre, ” I said wly.

        ‘Y? Yes, it is. I asked a man in a library. It’s by Cte someone. S of sisters, apparently.“

        ‘?“

        ‘Started to. It    a little girl. S    takes    I o somet. Nasty , not like Mrs. Love at all. t    later so scerrible scerrible food, but ser t… I seemed to lose i. Didn’t read t see    fitted after t.“ . ”?    o    relevant?“

        ‘S secretly—tries to burn ter is blind, and Jane marries him.“

        ‘Aried to puzzle it all out. But    doesn’t make sense, does it? t t after t… I    means. I ell me truth.“

        urned back to torn-out page. “Probably it’s not t’s important at all. Per’s just t    meaning. Look here—”

        Iigters ten in a large, boyiso t o decip. I tried t letter of every    of every line. Or tried replag oer for ao rials, eyes feverisill a c see somet had escaped him before.

        I kne was hopeless.

        ‘ about t objed couldn’t     no y, dirty-looking ts oils dried up, ted into stiff brohe cracked spine.

        Aurelius sh relief.

        And t one more t    finis ain t mig it closely.

        ‘I tuttered, ”— e bot“— me in    it must be my name.“

        ed. “It got    in t    ured at me to o t. ‘Somet t o, over to look lard, but you    see it, ’t you?“

        I stared at tain.

        ‘’t you?“

        I made a vague motion her nod nor shake.

        ‘You see! It’s obvious    it?

        I tio look, but tom letters t o my eye.

        ‘And t,“ tled on Aurelius. t just as easily be Alphonse, I suppose.“

        urned a you’ve seen t.” o op pocket and took out t our first meeting, ing on t cats flanking teps of Angelfield house.

        ‘And tself,“ I ?“

        ‘Just a bag,“ ed it to    delicately. ”It used to smell of smoke, but not anymore.“    to me, and I bent my o it. ”You see? It’s faded now.“

        Aurelius opeook out a tray of pale gold biscuits t    to cool. ttle and prepared a tray. Cups and saucers, a sugar botle plates.

        ‘You take tray to me.    sting room, old fy    a minute.“    o me,    things away.“

        I    into Mrs. Love’s front room and sat in a co stow ance—safely away.

        I left tc my mind. as it sometioion but    a of ory. It didn’t matter. It o me.

        In t, teeply and is covered in patc levels out and trees again. Because of t provides an ued vantage point from     I stopped, on my tage.

        t remained of it,    a gray sky. tories on t-ed by its dark stone lintel a led up to it, but tself     a day to be open to ts, and I sled os . Like taken t of t. t-ill largely intact, to judge by tion of t    to go. as all t mac myself t looked as if toill standing, pale and insubstantial as rice paper, seemed ready to melt a stood there long enough.

        My camera a from under my coat and raised it to my eyes. as it possible to capture t appearance of tness? I doubted it but o try.

        I ing tance lens    t my g. t excitedly.    ? A uo see more clearly.

        One of to ted t of it. It ed smile er—I could see it    on iff as a soldier ood, c out, ent ration to keep toe    from slipping.

        Just as ruck    of sun-ligs ing    of glory. I clicked tter and my po aken. t, over    s sign, and to , in the house, a dismal smudge of gray.

        took my eye off to uck my camera a , tes, equal stride, equal erbalao tails of tos barely skimming t to lift into the air and fly.

        JANE EYRE AND thE FURNACE

        back to Yorksion for my banis. Judited me rained smile. t    under ed in sains back a feing room, exposing a bit more    it made no differeo ted    s tether.

        t    felt like ay. Often nig never quite day, t of t of time. Miss inter arrived late to one of our m meetings. Soo,    kno pain t put thing else.

        ‘I propose a more flexible timetable for our meetings,“ stled in .

        ‘Of course.“ I kneervieor, could see o trol    yet taken full effect. And so    instead of presenting myself at nine every m, I    instead for a tap at my door.

        At first tap came alen. t drifted to later. After tor altered ook to asking for me early in t our meetings o a    of meeting times a day, at random times. Sometimes s    lengtail. At otimes s    so muced as tic qualities of torytelling itself.

        time gone. I listeo ory, I e tory, ory, and ory t formed tant backdrop of my ts. It irely inside a book. I didn’t eveo emerge to eat, for I could sit at my desk reading my transcript    Judit to my room. Pe meant it    lunceak and kidney pie ime over a dis did it mean? It could mean anyte a fee away.

        In tiated lapse of time, ts t stood out. I    time, separately from tory, and th recalling here.

        this is one.

        I    a ion of a fanatic: tions t came up so rarely on t it    a price to t fell at every poiremes. ticular, edition from turn of tury.    Miss inter in aled he fire.

        er asked, “ are you looking for?”

        “Jane Eyre.”

        ‘Do you like Jane Eyre?“ she asked.

        ‘Very much. Do you?“

        ‘Yes.“

        She shivered.

        ‘Soke up the fire for you?“

        She lowered her eyelids as if a wave of pain had e over her. “I suppose so.”

        Orongly again, s? Sit do.”

        And after a minute of silence shis.

        ‘Picture a veyor belt, a , and at t a massive furnace. And on t are books. Every copy ie.“

        “Middlemarch, ” I supplied.

        ‘t t t to it is a    to turn it on. And you    stop it. You o do is pull trigger.    do you do?“

        ‘No, t’s silly.“

        ‘urns to On. t arted.“

        ‘But it’s too extreme, it’s ical.“

        ‘First of all, She edge.“

        ‘I don’t like games like this.“

        ‘Noarts to go up in flames.“

        I sighed and closed my eyes.

        ‘uts ing up. Going to let t burn, are you?“

        I couldn’t eady process to the furnace, and flinched.

        ‘Suit yourself. In it goes. Same for Jane Eyre?“

        Jane Eyre. I hed.

        ‘All you o do is s. I    tell. No one need ever knoarted to fall. Just t fe t of copies. You    to make up your mind.“

        I rubbed my t a rough edge of nail on my middle finger.

        ‘ter now.“

        S remove her gaze from me.

        ‘. All of Jane Eyre will soon hink.“

        Miss inter blinked.

        ‘t one person, Margaret. Just oiny, insignifit little person.“

        I blinked.

        ‘Still time, but only just. Remember, to live?“

        Blink. Blink.

        ‘Last ce.“

        Blink. Blink. Blink.

        Jane Eyre was no more.

        “Margaret!” Miss inter’s face ted iion as s     t    ched in her lap.

        Later, , I t it    spontaneous expression of feeling I er. It    of feeling to i in a mere game.

        And my oer, I o say so.

        On my , I returo took t met my criteria. Rig kind of paper, rigypeface. In my room I turill I found the place.

        ‘… not at first aion; but and in act to , I instinctively started aside    soon enoug    me, and I fell, striking my    tting it.

        taot a single page    torn from. But in any case, he house.

        For a time I sat doing not no matter    make sense of it.

        time    of tograp tray one m, addressed to me in my fating. It ures from my first day: brambles gros oaircase. I ed at ture of to-face ; over ted. Still, I took it out of tucked it io keep.

        t of tograp,    of t puzzling positions of murkiness.    I remembered    tipping poier. But my camera ured none of t, nor    possible in t interrupted to make out a stone, a ree or a forest. After ures, I gave up looking. Stuffing tos in my cardigan pocket, I    doairs to the library.

        e    ervie t s could not recall the words.

        ‘?“ I said.

        ‘Your pocket,“ sed. ”You .“

        ‘O’s some pograp limbo state ory and your life, , I mumbled on. ”Angelfield,“ I said.

        By time I returo myself, tures were in her hands.

        At first s eaing to make sense of t out a small Vida inter sig implied ations igo a critical lio flick tures more cursorily; to s sed to find a, sossed eacer t glao table at her side.

        I os landing at a regular rable. top of each a sound like useless, useless, useless.

        to a . Miss ii rigidity, ure and studying it , I t. ter a long moment, pretending not to feel my gaze upon ucked to be t, tossing t as before.    ed tention resurfaced, s it but added it to t o tell it    if you say so…” sly artless movement, sohem.

        ‘My    doo retrieve tures, but I    deceived.

        And sory .

        Later I looked tures again. For all t tos     difficult to tell ood out from t. I sat on t t    and t just t time to alloo a braying t at any minute    o slip sideways on his head.

        aken by t pograp t so    y barrier and t sign.

        as it terested her?

        I puzzled over ture for    by time I came to put it aion. Because it perplexed me, I slipped it iure of an absen a mirror frame.

        Apart from tograp mucory    over me.

        t, I remember. ook note of my unusual c my door for a bit of fuss at random . Finiss of egg or fise. o sit on my piles of paper, ce. For    scratc my pages, er’s story, but no matter    myself, I never quite lost my sense of being c particularly lost, it    t seemed to reay muddle and ligo my room, my notes, my pencils and my pencil s s, and I took to leaving my curtains open so t if    on my    o the human eye.

        And t is all. Apart from ternal twiligory.
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