The Life to Come. Michelle De Kretser

      “‘The police,’ repeated my escort. ‘Let me think: did we see the police at all yesterday? You know, I don’t think so. It must have been a police holiday.’ From his tone, I could tell that his words were as deceptive as a conjurer’s silk handkerchief: they seemed ordinary but concealed something startling. I shrank back against my seat, not knowing if I feared a dove or a fist in my face.

      “The clerk went on, telling me that most of the people inside the lab escaped by jumping from the windows. A few remained trapped and were bludgeoned to death. He said, ‘There was a boy your age who was inside.’

      “He stared at me. I saw that he wanted me to ask what had happened to the boy, and I was too afraid of him to resist. I remember that it was difficult to form the words because my lips, my mouth, and my throat were all painfully dry.

      “‘What do you think happened? He was a cripple. He couldn’t jump.’ He looked fuller in the face after he said it. More satisfied.

      “A week or so later, my father returned to Colombo. We were all back in London by the end of the year.”