The air had become thick, or perhaps it was just that her chest had tightened to a painful degree until she felt she couldn’t draw breath. Theo looked as if he’d just been struck over the head; she could easily read the mingled disbelief, fury and devastation on his face. Right. She wasn’t the only one who he’d left behind. Theo, Cecily — she stopped herself there. If she thought anymore about their children, she would have to decide what to tell them, and she couldn’t do that until she accepted that he was gone, and he wasn’t. gone.

“ ‘I am not bound for India, but for ‘the grave’, that you and the children might live a better, fuller life without the spectre of the full moon hanging over your heads.’ ” She read, refusing to let herself process what the words actually meant. It was entirely possible Theo’s letter had something different. Something that said this was some elaborate ruse. She didn’t look at Theo as she read. His expression would tell her if his said something similar. And when she got to that part — that horrid part where he said alerting authorities would only cause them more trouble, it felt as if she had dragged her voice across a bed of glass shards. The world became blurry again, the air even more suffocating.

The last part of the letter couldn't be said aloud, so she thrust the letter to Theo as a tiny, pathetic whimper escaped from her.