Anna was married. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. And the fences are down for good. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. It begins with that queer piccolo solo. “Guess who I’m going out with?” Michelle asked her one day at lunch.
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