The final picture showed Rosalind in a red scarf holding Pearl, who was laughing so hard her eyes were closed.

I watched him look at it.

I knew grief from my own father’s death.

But what I saw in Desmond was grief tangled with guilt, and he needed more help than a nanny could give.

“Have you spoken to anyone about Rosalind?” I asked.

“I speak to you.”

“I’m glad you trust me.

You should also speak with someone whose work is helping people carry loss.”