A wagtail lives behind her garden wall. It flies around, constantly busy, but they never see another one, no mate, no chicks.

‘A divorced wagtail,’ Arnold says and tilts his head. ‘Poor thing. Never leave me. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill myself!’

No matter how open he pretends to be, he is never entirely open. No matter how vulnerably he presents, he is never completely vulnerable. No matter how desperate he seems, he is never truly desperate. He calls to say that he is going to kill himself, but he is one of those people who never will. He might appear needy, but he has his own campfire, he can survive anything. She is the one who might perish.