“Nell — has Grandma said anything about what happens if you tell me?”

And she started to cry, silently, in the specific way children cry when they have decided in advance not to, and she said:

“She said if I tell you, Mommy will get in trouble.

And it’ll be my fault.”

I said something.

I do not remember what.

I remember that I did not raise my voice, that I did not say a word about her grandmother, and that I got up and went round the island and put my arms around her.

And over the top of her head, through the kitchen window, I watched my car pull into the drive.