Back to the cradle
The interrogative lift in the last sentence was the barest of inflexions. Blodwen said, before Britton could reply:
‘Someone going somewhere?’
I was watching Britton acutely. I saw his confusion and knew that at this moment all choice and force, determination and persuasion, came in him to decision’s lasting focus. I said slowly, answering Blodwen, watching the weight of my words in the delicate balance of his will:
‘He had some idea of going to live in a small town in Lancashire. Where he was born. We all try to get back to the cradle, don’t we? It’s a very old dream. It can almost be done, too. You gain a lot, and sacrifice … everything.’
Blodwen’s laugh rippled like meaningless thunder against a sky dark with meaning.