\"My parents. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. She took to listening through closed doors. She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate. But why did he turn away? "Wait!" Ruth called to her father.
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