In October of the third year, Petra found a lump.
She told Callum on a Tuesday. Callum called Damien on Wednesday. Damien told me Thursday morning over breakfast in the careful way he had developed for delivering news that required handling.
Petra, his sister-in-law of four months, who was thirty-four and certain and had the quality of structural engineers who understand load bearing in all its applications, had found a lump and seen a doctor and was waiting for the results of tests that would take ten days.
Ten days.
Ten days is its own category of time when it is built entirely of waiting.
I called Callum.
He answered with a voice that was managing something considerable and doing it imperfectly, which was the right way to do it.
“How is she?” I said.
“She says she’s fine,” he sa
