You still have occasional dinners with him. I, too, cannot stand consistency and stability. Ten years on, you and Dad are still together and I honestly think you are happy, all things considered. I think we have both probably read too much Jane Austen. He sat stiffly at our kitchen table with us, and the others were too young to think anything of it, but I knew this was his audition in your mind. To find letters from him begging you to stay. It comes up in conversation and I can feel my father wince. I saw the furtive glances across the garden and I remember so clearly the time you brought him to the house when Dad was away. Would you take us with you and leave him all alone?
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