For now, I fear there is something worse, something more present. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. I hope you will always love her, but I want you to remember she has offended your father and married without his consent. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. Creeping along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a covered drain, into which he crept. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. How to hold her, how to keep her at his side; this was the problem with which he struggled. They were in different key, they had a different timbre.
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