He sighed. ‘It’s nearly time.’

‘Don’t say that,’ I urged even though I knew he was right.

His eyes moved to the window. ‘Ah,’ he sighed softly. ‘You’ve come.’

My gaze swung to the window. It was closed. The heavy drapes pulled shut. Goose pimples ran up my arms. ‘Don’t go yet. Please,’ I begged.

He dragged his gaze reluctantly from the window. His thin pale lips rose at the edges as he drew in a rattling breath. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got to pay my dues. I haven’t been a good man.’

‘Just wait a while.’

‘You have your whole life ahead of you.’

He turned his unnaturally bright eyes away from me. Looking straight ahead, and with a violent shudder, he left this world.

For a few seconds I simply stared at him. Appropriately, outside the January wind howled and dashed itself into the shutters. I knew the servants were waiting downstairs. Everyone was waiting for me to go down and give them the bad news. Then I leaned forward and put my cheek on his still, bony chest. He smelled strongly of medicine. I closed my eyes tightly. Why did you have to die and leave me to the wolves?

In that moment I felt so close to him I wished this time would not end. I wished I could lie on his chest, safe and closeted away from the real world. I heard the clock ticking. The fire in the massive hearth cracked and spat. Somewhere a pipe creaked.

I placed my chin on his chest and turned to look at him one last time. He appeared to be sleeping. Peaceful, at any rate. I stroked the thin strands of white hair lying across his pinkish white scalp. I let my finger run down his prominent nose and it shocked me how quickly the tip of his nose had lost warmth. Soon all of him will be stone cold.

I wondered whom he had seen at the window. Who had come to take him to his reckoning?

My sorrow was so complete I could put my fingertips into it and feel the edges. Smooth. Without corners. Without sharpness. I had no tears. I knew he was dying two hours before. Strange because it had seemed as if he had taken a turn for the better. He seemed stronger, his cheeks pink, his eyes brilliant bright and when he smiled it seemed as if he was lit from within. He seemed so much stronger. I asked him if he wanted to eat.

‘Milk. I’ll have a glass of milk,’ he said decisively.

But after I called for milk and it was brought to him he smiled and refused it. ‘Isn’t this wonderful?’ he asked. ‘I feel so good.’

At that moment I knew. Even so it was incomprehensible that he was really gone. I never wanted to believe it.

‘In the end you wanted to go, didn’t you?’

There was no answer.

‘It’s OK. I know you were tired. It was only me holding you back. You go on ahead. Find a place for me.’

He lay as still as a corpse. Oh god! I already missed him so much.

‘I understand you can’t talk. But you can hear me. When it is my turn I want you to come and get me. I’ll be expecting you to come in through the window. Go in peace now. All will be well. They will never know the truth. I will never tell them. To the day you come back to collect me.’

I opened up my nail kit and began to do his nails. With gentle care I filed and polished the yellowed nails.

‘There you go. That will last you forever. No one will ever be able to say I did not do a good job.’

Then I began to cry, not loud ugly sobs, but a quiet weeping. I didn’t want the servants to hear. To come rushing in or call the doctor waiting downstairs to come in and pronounce him dead. I knew what waited for me outside this room. Another hour … or two won’t make a difference. This was my time. My final hour with my husband.