Part 6 He became quite sure, by a sort of accumulation of reflection, as the day wore on. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. A few seconds sufficed to clear the passage, through which it had previously cost him more than two hours to force his way. He hated horizons. Your fingers are even now as stiff as a schoolgirl’s. But let that verse tell my secret. God only knows what I have done, or left undone. E. ‘Come, Hilary.
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