Dreaming of the Bones

danger signals now.
    I haven’t ventured out much yet—too many people at once make me feel a bit fragile still, and well-meaning acquaintances tend to ask questions I’m not ready to answer. Nathan and Jean have had me to dinner, though, and treated me as though I’d never-been away. We had the most ordinary and domestic of conversations, all about Alison’s nappies and the best ingredients for lentil soup. Jean is expecting again.
    You asked about Adam. He’s been his usual solicitous and generous self but I can sense his need, and I’m afraid he wants more than I can give. I can’t afford to lose myself in any man, not ever again, and I fear I lack the necessary’ bit of ballast which allows other people to conduct a romance without going overboard. I dare not risk it.

    Your loving
    Lydia

17

    The unheard invisible lovely dead
    Lie with us in this place...

    RUPERT BROOKE,
    from ” Mummia ”

    He slept the deep and dreamless sleep of exhaustion, not stirring when the oblong of uncurtained window paled to gray, then to rose, then to the clear, washed blue of an April morning. When the phone rang, he fumbled for it with a vague awareness of the sound’s meaning.
    Managing to get the receiver to his ear, he mumbled, ”Kincaid,” as he opened one eye and squinted at the clock. Eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Bloody hell. This had better be good.
    ” Duncan ?” The voice was strained, apologetic. ”This is Bob Potts. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid we have a problem and I didn’t know who else to ring.”
    Kincaid heard the panic beneath the carefully chosen words and came fully awake. ”Problem? What sort of problem?”
    Potts cleared his throat. ”It’s Kit. He seems to have... um... that is, he seems to have gone missing.”
    ”What do you mean, missing? Surely he’s just gone out for a bit.” Kincaid sat up, and in spite of his calming words, he was aware of the sudden pounding of his heart.
    ”His bed’s not been sleptin. I went to wake him...” Potts paused and cleared his throat again. ”I’ve looked everywhere. There’s no trace of him, and the dog’s gone, too.”
    ”What dog?” Kincaid remembered Vic telling him that one of the great regrets of her childhood was that she’d never been allowed a pet. Her mother had disliked animals, and Kincaid thought it unlikely that Eugenia’s feelings on the matter had mellowed. He reached for the pad and pencil he kept by the telephone. ”I think you’d better tell me exactly what happened.”
    ”Kit brought a dog home from the supermarket, a stray mongrel,” said Ports. ”But I really don’t see what—”
    ”Just start from the beginning. I won’t have a clear picture to work with unless you tell me everything.” Kincaid tried to keep the impatience from his voice.
    ”All right,” Potts agreed, still sounding reluctant. ”It seems Kit found this dog behind the Tesco yesterday afternoon, while he was sheltering from a rainstorm. He made up his mind to keep it, and, of course, Eugenia... um... that is, we didn’t think it appropriate.” Potts hesitated a moment before adding, ”Kit was rather upset, although we did reach a compromise.”
    ”And what was that?” Kincaid asked, with some skepticism.
    ”I convinced Eugenia to let him keep the dog in the garage overnight, until I could take it to the shelter this morning. I assured him that they would do their best to find it a home.” Some comfort that would have been, when Kit must have known that the dog’s chances of adoption and survival were slim at best. ”I take it Kit wasn’t happy with your solution?”
    ”Uh, no,” said Potts, and from his tone Kincaid could imagine Kit, white-faced and silent with fury. ”He went to bed without his tea, so this morning I thought I’d take him his breakfast first thing—”
    ”Were any of his things missing?”
    ”I… I don’t know. I didn’t think of that,” Potts answered, sounding more distressed. ”I looked for him outside at first—I thought he must have taken the dog for a walk, but surely he’d be back by now. It’s been more than two hours…”
    ”Did he leave a note?”
    ”Not that I’ve seen.”
    That could be good news or bad, thought Kincaid. ”Did he take any money?”
    ”I... I’m afraid I don’t know that, either. If you’ll hang on a moment, I’ll have a look.” There was a clatter as Potts put the phone down. Kincaid heard voices, muted at first, then Eugenia’s