Kate stumbled down the neatly raked path, her glasses steamed up with the heat of raw emotion and half-blinded by tears. She trusted she would find her way to her favourite spot in the Walled Garden if she were blindfolded, or even in the pitch dark. That was if the entrance hadn’t been barred by solid metal doors at nighttime. It was as though she was led by a homing device to her place of refuge, a bench tucked in the c...