In the third year of our marriage, which was the second year of our real one, on a morning in May when the estate was doing everything gardens do when they have been well kept through a difficult winter, I stood at the east garden and thought about all the things that were simultaneously true.
The estate was ours.
Rose was running in the manner of someone who has recently mastered the skill and intends to apply it comprehensively.
Damien was somewhere behind me, I could hear him on a call with Webb about a corporate matter, his voice in its work register carrying across the morning air.
Mrs. Aldren was in the kitchen doing something that would result in lunch being exactly what the morning required.
Callum had called last night from Vancouver about the building, almost finished now, a
