Whenever the old fear returned, I read it again.

Then I checked on Theo, called Frank, or opened the drawing files on my desk and began another useful day’s work.

PART 27

A few weeks after that lake trip, Theo asked me whether he could keep the little stone Frank had given him in a wooden box beside his bed.

“It’s mine,” he explained, “but I want it somewhere safe.”

We found a box and lined it with a square of blue felt.