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‘do you mean to tell me； aurelius； that you are a foundling？“
‘yes。 that is the word for what i am。 a foundling。“
i was lost for words。
‘one does get used to it； i suppose；“ he said； and i regretted that he had to fort me for his own loss。
‘do you really？“
he considered me with a curious expression； no doubt wondering how much to tell me。 “no； actually；” he said。
with the slow and heavy steps of invalids； we resumed our walking。 the mist was almost gone。 the magical shapes of the topiary had lost their charm and looked like the unkempt bushes and hedges they were。
‘so it was mrs。 love who…“ i began。
‘… found me。 yes。“
‘and your parents…“
‘no idea。“
‘but you know it was here？ in this house？“
aurelius shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets。 his shoulders tightened。 “i wouldn’t expect other people to understand。 i haven’t got any proof。 but i do know。” he sent me a quick glance； and i encouraged him； with my eyes； to continue。
‘sometimes you can know things。 things about yourself。 things from before you can remember。 i can’t explain it。“
i nodded； and aurelius went on。
‘the night i was found there was a big fire here。 mrs。 love told me so； when i was nine。 she thought she should； because of the smell of smoke on my clothes when she found me。 later i came over to have a look。 and i’ve been ing ever since。 later i looked it up in the archives of the local paper。 anyway—“
his voice had the unmistakable lightness of someone telling something extremely important。 a story so cherished it had to be dressed in casualness to disguise its significance in case the listener turned out to be unsympathetic。
‘anyway； the minute i got here i knew。 this is home； i said to myself。 this is where i e from。 there was no doubt about it。 i knew。“
with his last words； aurelius had let the lightness slip； allowed a fervor to creep in。 he cleared his throat。 “obviously i don’t expect anyone to believe it。 i’ve no evidence as such。 only a coincidence of dates； and mrs。 love’s vague memory of a smell of smoke—and my own conviction。”
‘i believe it；“ i said。
aurelius bit his lip and sent me a wary sideways look。
his confidences； this mist； had led us unexpectedly onto a peninsula of intimacy； and i found myself on the brink of telling what i had never told anyone before。 the words flew ready…formed into my head； organized themselves instantly into sentences； long strings of sentences； bursting with impatience to fly from my tongue。 as if they had spent years planning for this moment。
‘i believe you；“ i repeated； my tongue thick with all the waiting words。 ”i’ve had that feeling； too。 knowing things you can’t know。 from before you can remember。“
and there it was again！ a sudden movement in the corner of my eye； there and gone in the same instant。
‘did you see that； aurelius？“
he followed my gaze to the topiary pyramids and beyond。 “see what？ no； i didn’t see anything。”
it had gone。 or else it had never been there at all。
i turned back to aurelius； but i had lost my nerve。 the moment for confidences was gone。
‘have you got a birthday？“ aurelius asked。
‘yes。 i’ve got a birthday。“
all my unsaid words went back to wherever they had been all these years。
‘i’ll make a note of it； shall i？“ he said brightly。 ”then i can send you a card。“
i feigned a smile。 “it’s ing up soon； actually。 ”
aurelius opened a little blue notebook divided into months。
‘the nineteenth；“ i told him； and he wrote it down with a pencil so small it looked like a toothpick in his huge hand。
。。
MRS。 LOVE TURNS A HEEL
；
when it started to rain we put our hoods up and made our way hurriedly to the shelter of the church。 in the porch we did a little jig to drive the raindrops off our coats； and then went inside。
we sat in a pew near the altar and i stared up at the pale； vaulted ceiling until i made myself dizzy。
‘tell me about when you were found；“ i said。 ”what do you know about it？“
‘i know what mrs。 love told me；“ he answered。 ”i can tell you that。 and of course there’s always my inheritance。“
‘you have an inheritance？“
‘yes。 it’s nothing much。 not what people usually mean when they talk about an inheritance； but all the same… in fact； i could show it to you later。“
‘that would be nice。“
‘yes… because i was thinking； nine is a bit too adjacent to breakfast for cake； isn’t it？“ it was said with a reluctant grimace that turned into a gleam with his next words： ”so i thought； invite margaret back for elevenses。 cake and coffee； how does that sound？ you could do with feeding up。 and i’ll show you my inheritance at the same time。 what little there is to see。“
i accepted the invitation。
aurelius took his glasses from his pocket and began to polish them absently with a handkerchief。
‘well now。“ slowly he took a deep breath。 slowly he exhaled。 ”as it was told to me。 mrs。 love； and her story。“
his face settled into passive neutrality； a sign that； in the way of all storytellers； he was disappearing to make way for the voice of the story itself。 and then he recited； and from his very first words； at the heart of his voice； it was mrs。 love i heard； conjured from the grave by the memory of her story。
her story； and aurelius’s； and also； perhaps； emmeline’s。
there was a pitch…black sky that night； and a storm was brewing in it。 in the treetops the wind was whistling； and it was raining fit to break the windows。 i was knitting in this chair by the fire； a gray sock it was； the second one； and i was just turning the heel。 well； i felt a shiver。 not that i was cold； mind you。 i’d a nice lot of firewood piled up in the log basket that i’d brought in from the shed that afternoon； and i’d only just put another log on。 so i wasn’t cold； not at all； but i thought to myself； what a night； i’m glad i’m not some poor soul caught outdoors away from home on a night like this； and it was thinking of that poor soul as made me shiver。
everything was quiet indoors； only the crack of the fire every so often； and the click…click of the knitting needles；