'Gabriel had phoned Capital C to check how Octavia felt about his being there: she said she'd love to see him and thatof course he must come. ''That could be jolly helpful,' she said, we're thinking ofadopting Swampy-type tactics. ''Yes, I heard you. It's going toshow, look, here, see? Dry, rough little patch.
Octavia could never remember afterwards walking acrossthe field, climbing over the gate; she would have swornunder oath she hadn't moved. ' More than anything, she wanted to say yes. and in thesummer, she often lay awake at night, soothed by the sweetthrobbing song of the nightingales. 'And --nothing else?''No, nothing concrete.
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