PROLOGUE

The day after all that rain the sun was really bright. They were outside, in front of the house. She walked over to where her son Anthony stood, bent and still. What on earth was he watching, so intently? He’d been quiet for so long. She drew the heavy branches of the bushes back, the branches all dark then light, and saw into the eyes of the bird the cat was eating. They weren’t startled, the eyes, they were languid, disturbed the way a lover’s would be, interrupted making love. Claire froze in horror. She had intruded upon this submission, this act of dying. The fluffed-up, opened bird looked at her with glazed-over eyes, no longer trying, no longer fearing. It was committed now to being eaten. Participating, even, with passive devotion. Exalted devotion. Ashes from the phoenix. Anthony, absorbed, said, “Oh.” The obscenity was Claire’s alone, still watching, for she alone was never longer innocent.