1984

           Thegirlhoppedoverandforcedapartthebushes,inwhichtheredidnotseemtobeanopening. WhenWinstonfollowedher,hefoundthattheywereinanaturalclearing,atinygrassyknollsurroundedbytallsaplingsthatshutitincompletely. Thegirlstoppedandturned. 

           ‘Hereweare,’shesaid. 

           Hewasfacingheratseveralpaces’distance.Asyethedidnotdaremovenearertoher. 

           ‘Ididn’twanttosayanythinginthelane,’shewenton,‘incasethere’samikehiddenthere. Idon’tsupposethereis,buttherecouldbe.There’salwaysthechanceofoneofthoseswinerecognizingyourvoice. We’reallrighthere.’ 

           Hestillhadnotthecouragetoapproachher. ‘We’reallrighthere?’herepeatedstupidly. 

           ‘Yes.Lookatthetrees.’ Theyweresmallashes,whichatsometimehadbeencutdownandhadsproutedupagainintoaforestofpoles,noneofthemthickerthanone’swrist. ‘There’snothingbigenoughtohideamikein. Besides,I’vebeenherebefore.’ 

           Theywereonlymakingconversation.Hehadmanagedtomoveclosertohernow. Shestoodbeforehimveryupright,withasmileonherfacethatlookedfaintlyironical,asthoughshewerewonderingwhyhewassoslowtoact. Thebluebellshadcascadedontotheground. Theyseemedtohavefallenoftheirownaccord. Hetookherhand.