She looked at him without saying anything. He told her, again, that Lalesh was the obvious place to finish the story. The answers to most of their puzzles lay with the Yezidi. The sacred capital was the only place he could find truly learned Yezidi. Scholars who could unwrap the enigma. And obviously it made sense for Rob to go alone. He knew Iraq. He knew the risks. He had contacts in that country. His paper would cover his enormous insurance bill, but they wouldn’t pay for Christine. So he had to go to Lalesh-and he had to go alone. Christine seemed to accede and accept. And then she turned and walked, wordless, into the garden. Rob hesitated. Should he join her? Leave her alone? His reverie of indecision was broken by Isobel, humming a song as she walked through the kitchen. The older woman glanced at Rob, and then at the silhouetted figure, sitting in the garden. ‘You told her?’ ‘She seemed OK about it, but then…’ Isobel sighed. ‘She was like this at Cambridge. When she’s upset, she doesn’t chuck things at walls, just bottles it up.’ Rob was torn.
