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192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1960
But there came a day when Agis’s wife actually discovered their relationship; and then the second cycle of lies was closed and a far uglier game began.
But in the morning there had been strange furtive presence of her father in the kitchen preparing his own breakfast. As a rule, her mother did this for him. He was eating it silently, huddled in a chair at the cold kitchen table, in the grey kitchen light, like a beggar eating a crust of bread on a doorstep.
When she asked where her mother was, he looked up at her in fear and said: “She is not here. I don’t know where she is. I don’t know what happened to her.” She realized at once, with a shock of recognition, that he was not telling her the whole truth. He knew more than he admitted. At last the roles were reversed, and she suddenly found him down, down at her own level.
She asked him why he did not call her, so that she might prepare his breakfast for him. He turned his face away and muttered that he had not wanted to disturb her. That too was a lie, but the strange new humility behind it was genuine.
Then there had been the telephone call from the police station, announcing the accident.