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her. Her face was in shadow, yet her eyes blazed. “Go after him.”
    “How can I? He’s locked the door.”
    “Then make him open it.”
    Alice imagined herself hammering on the door, picking the lock, or worse, cajoling. “I can’t.”
    “You don’t want to.”
    “No, I don’t.” She struggled to sound reasonable. “I’m not going to press. He’s only been back a day.”
    “You’ll lose him, then,” Katherine said. “You’ll lose him, because he’ll slip away. He wants to, he’s trying to make you leave him alone, don’t you see that?”
    “I see that!” Alice’s voice rose to a sharp cry, surprising them both. Katherine was silent; Alice stood, fists clench, her breathing ragged.
    She waited till Katherine had returned to the drawing room and her own breathing had evened. Then she climbed the stairs and walked to George’s door. She pressed her hand against the old, smooth wood. She could hear nothing; it was terribly silent.
    ‘George?” she whispered, quietly enough so there was the chance he wouldn’t hear her. “George?” The silence frightened her. She crept away.
    It was past midnight when she woke with a start, the room in darkness, lit only by a sliver of moonlight. An unearthly sound rent the air, a howl of pain and misery.
    George was screaming.
    Alice stumbled out of bed, her hair in her eyes, and grasped the door handle. She wanted the sound to stop; she wanted to get away from it.
    In the hallway, Katherine stood in her nightdress, her long, grey hair loose, her eyes wide.
    “You must go to him,” she told Alice.
    “I can’t!” Fear seized her. She shook with it. “I can’t.”
    Katherine’s face was calm. She pushed her hair back, smoothed it with deliberate movements. “You are his wife, Alice. I am only his mother.”
    Alice stared. “I don’t know what to do.”
    “That doesn’t matter.”
    The screaming had stopped. Alice heard ragged breathing, a strangled sniffling.
    “Alice.” Katherine’s eyes pierced her. She realized then how well her mother-in-law must have known her. “Choose.”
    Alice walked to the door as if blind.
    “George?” She turned the knob, and to her surprise the door opened.
    She entered the room, their old bedroom, her hand still clenched on the knob. George was huddled on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest.
    He looked at her, tears streaking his cheeks. The mask of indifference had been wiped away, and his face was a plea. “I have nightmares.”
    Alice spoke through numb lips. “They’re just dreams. They’ll go away.”
    “Close the door.”
    Alice closed it. George turned away from her. “How can you bear it?” he asked in a dull voice.
    “Bear what?” Alice took a breath. She felt light-headed and strange. She moved forward.
    “Being married to me.”
    “Why…” Alice paused, her mind groping with this new truth. “Why do you say that?”
    “I’m a shell.” George looked at her, a terrible emptiness in his eyes. “A shell of a man. Sometimes it feel like there is nothing inside of me, and that is almost a relief.”
    This, at least, was something she could understand. Alice nodded. “I know how that feels.”
    “What do you do?” George asked. He looked at her almost hungrily. “What do you do, when you can’t bear feeling it all?”
    “I stop. But that was before.”
    “Before what?”
    “Before you came home.” Alice knelt on the edge of the bed. Her heart was beating fiercely, yet she felt calm. “Let me help you.”
    “How?”
    “I don’t know how. I could love you.”
    “Can you remember?”
    “Perhaps.”
    George gazed down at his thin, pale hands. The cuff of his pajama top had fallen back and with a piercing shock Alice saw jagged scars on his wrist. “Could you love me, Alice? Even now?”
    He held his hands out, and Alice, as if she had always known what to do, drew him to her. He nestled against her like a child and after a startled moment, she stroked his hair. She did not know