Bloomsbury Publishing

One February It's haunted, she thought. They emerged from the lanes on to the upper reaches of the moor, and Cecília understood that the baby girl was still there: there in the sodden cloud shadows, there in the bracken. Once she had thought that her baby lived in her own mind only, projected...

LET US START WITH the river - all things begin with the river and we shall probably end there, no doubt - but let's wait and see how we go. Soon, in a minute or two, a young man will come and stand by the river's edge, here at Chelsea Bridge, in London. There he is - look - stepping hesitantly...