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piece of paper was still there, with nothing else added. But, as Ellen often pointed out,
     George was very busy. He was making the cottage into a modern home so they could be a real family. Which was why Geenie shouldn’t
     go around knocking holes in walls, even if they were already broken and rubble was all over the rug, and why her mother had
     told her to stay in her room and miss supper last week. It hadn’t been too bad, though, as she’d remembered the three Garibaldis
     stored in her sock drawer.
    Blotto stretched and waddled from beneath the table. She patted him on the head and he began to lick her hand, pushing his
     long tongue between each of her fingers.
    After a while, her mother shouted, ‘You should come out here, Flossy. It’s divine.’
    Geenie wiped the dog’s saliva down the back door and continued to watch through the crack.
    George emerged from the studio. He stood on the step, shielding his eyes from the sun. He was wearing his writing cardigan,
     which Ellen said he should never wear out of the house. It was pale blue with a cream collar and big cream buttons, and was
     so long it almost reached his knees.
    He didn’t say anything for a long time.
    ‘There you are. How’s Karl, darling? Getting to the good bits yet?’ Ellen hitched herself up on one elbow and smiled in George’s
     direction. ‘Surely it’s too hot to be indoors, even for Marx?’
    George stepped onto the lawn and frowned. He stared at Ellen for a long time, his eyes going up and down her body but never
     resting on her face.
    ‘Ellen. What on earth are you doing?’
    ‘I should’ve thought that was obvious.’
    He ran a hand over his mouth. ‘Where’s your bathing suit?’
    ‘I don’t know, darling. I’m not going bathing.’
    George’s frown deepened. ‘It’s still only April…’
    ‘Almost May. You should get some sun on those marvellous legs of yours,’ said Ellen. ‘It does the skin tone no end of good.’
    He looked about. ‘Won’t the neighbours—’
    ‘There are no neighbours. We’re miles from anyone. We’re practically in the wilderness. And you’re still wearing that infernal
     cardigan.’
    ‘I’d hardly call Harting a wilderness.’
    They stared at each other for a moment. Then Ellen sat up and thrust her arms out towards him. ‘Nudity,’ she said in a loud
     voice, ‘is the magician of the genders.’
    George let out a laugh.
    ‘It’s not funny, darling. It’s poetic. James told me.’
    ‘What does it mean, I wonder?’ asked George, walking towards her.
    ‘It means,’ said Ellen, settling back down on her towel, ‘that you should get undressed immediately.’
    George looked about again.
    ‘It is rather hot, isn’t it?’
    ‘Blistering.’
    He started to remove his cardigan. ‘And no one’s about.’
    ‘Not a soul.’
    From behind the back door, Geenie watched as George slipped his braces from his shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt.
    ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.’
    ‘How could your magnificent body possibly inflict pain on anyone or anything?’
    George’s chest was speckled with patches of black curly hair. He folded his shirt carefully and placed it on the grass. Then
     he removed his shoes and socks, unbuttoned his trousers and bent over to step out of them.
    Geenie made her decision. With Blotto trotting behind, she strolled into the garden and stood before them with her hands on
     her naked hips. ‘Is there room for me?’
    ‘Good grief—’
    Ellen sat up. ‘Flossy! How wonderful! Now we can all be magicians together.’
    George hopped about on one leg, trying to get his braces in place and his socks on at the same time.
    ‘Don’t be shy, darling. Lie down next to me. George is sunbathing, too.’ Ellen held out a hand and her daughter took it. The
     sun was fierce on Geenie’s shoulders, and her neck was hot beneath her pile of heavy hair. But Ellen was right: it was wonderful,
     the sun on every part of you: back, bottom, legs,