Poor Aurelius. o notice as I slipped my arm t turo 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.

        oo 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.“

        uro 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 act.”

        ‘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 ’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    we do?”

        ‘t hey?“

        ‘Not.“

        ‘e on, then.“

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

        ‘It    ing of trs.

        ‘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 o tory of .

        I took    him.

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

        It took a moment for o realize    meant, a 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 mio stop ting you.”

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

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

        ook te envelope and ope, 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 stret eiturned skyhe snow.

        In Karen’s garden ts of ts 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 ied 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 se.

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

        ‘e don’t knohe girl said.

        ‘e ’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 tless different worlds.

        Aurelius chey were a miracle.

        turo 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 uro 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 mio tell. Adeline and Emmeli, 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 e tories; stories t are strong and solid and true. t a    to cause fear or pain. t an old story, uo 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 ru 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 uaken as a neierprise. 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 ot. 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 “derella’s C I knoe enoug readers to uand t , it itle in t    be mine.

        ture. No name.

        But tory.

        It ory of derella, like I’d never read it before. Laic, 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. irl’s pumpkin is just a pumpkin, and ser midnigticoats, violated. tman at tomorroupid. S, though.

        In t of tory, derella 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 ied by an imaginative co fill t to have been?

        teeory.

        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 moo be paid to me. Apparently    even o c t blank.

        ‘Srusted you,“ old me.

        Clearly srust me. entions in tract t I never read ned are quite unmistakable. Sed to tell me tory before sed me to make a record of it.    I did    after t or about my iiarding 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 verted 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    e aftero “Vida inter’s Secret Garden.” Juditinue as    job, before to clear Emmeline’s rooms. t be visited, for to see.

        And er. ainly surprised me. I ter from Emmanuel Drake. to tell you trutten all about inued    all odds, late in t alian e t track,” ter explained, “o America!” For ter ant to an academieurologist, and . It    after a long and ogetten to me, and I    to o keep. I doubt o make out mu; 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 e 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, disappoiare.

        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 e . Very    afternoon    for a    time it    too busy iers to be able to apany us. I told ory of t of Angelfield. ened closely, and o walk, slowly and in silence.

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

        I stopped in my tracks,    to ask.”

        ‘You’ll never knoill 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    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 ot    t .

        And t is all.
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