Once we (only half-conscious of this) left her in oak tree out the front, calling out (did you hear something? imagine if the ladder fell! imagine if she got stuck up the tree!) while we danced, stupid as we could, to her records, Onwards Christian Soldiers, blasting through the living room, rattling the Philippine carved nativity scene. Maybe because I was with an adult I thought we couldn't be naughty, couldn't be doing any harm.

But the oak tree was older than that. And the cactus garden, huge, the dilapidated greenhouse full of "fairies" and insects; the row of she-oaks that burned down one summer - fire engine, alarm.