When the bell-ringers came home she immediately demanded that her balloon be set up, although they hadn't rested, eaten, washed or even spoken for days.

By the time they'd finished she was already asleep. They packed a supply of clothing and toiletries. Then they wrapped her in a couple of eiderdowns; carried her out; lowered her into the basket; turned up the flame; cut the guy-ropes; stood in awe as she ascended from them forever.

"Good riddance," said one. "May you land in the sea."

"Oh, come off it," said another. "She wasn't that bad."

"She was abysmal."

"In what way?"

"Just look at that, for instance. We're the ones who're exhausted yet she's the one who's gone to sleep."

"So what? There's no connection. We've got plenty of time to recover."

"That's not the point."

"Well, I quite liked her. She had something most of the others didn't have."

* * *

She landed on a perfect lawn, in the grounds of an immaculate mansion. The family, who had just finished breakfast, came rushing out with ambiguous feelings about this unexpected honour.

Whose room would she choose?

Whose heart would she bite?

Whose nose would she hate?

Whose hobby would she forbid?

As they peered over the rim of the basket with such anxieties bubbling up through their eyes they were surprised to find what a pleasant and graceful sleeping face she possessed. They carried her back to the house and laid her down on the sofa in the drawing-room. Nobody seemed to know whether they were supposed to wake her or let her sleep run its internal course. Should they all drop their plans for the day and remain cloistered in here, or what? After much debate, during which she didn't stir, Rafael (son and heir) volunteered to stay with her. Although he'd intended to go fishing he was quite happy to remain. It's not often you get the opportunity to meet someone asleep before you've met her awake, to listen to her silence before you've heard her voice, to fall in love with her beauty before you've seen her eyes.

* * *

The moment she woke up she sat up. The moment she sat up she scowled. "Where the hell is this?"

"You landed in the garden."

"Oh, I did, did I? Just my luck."

She glanced around the room, obviously unappreciative of the good taste with which it had been flavoured.

"What a dump," she concluded.

"I'm sorry if it's not what you're used to."

"Used to?" she echoed with a jeer. "I don't get used to things, my boy. They get used to me."

Rafael frowned, disturbed by the contrast.

"You can clear all those ridiculous bits of china out of the way for a start."

"Um... I'll just go and get my mother."

She immediately threw off her eiderdowns, went over to the mantelpiece, and with a nonchalant sweep of her right hand relieved it of its ornaments.

"Now sit down. Let's get a few things straight…"

* * *

The household soon rearranged itself around her. She occupied the master-bedroom. Rafael slept on a mat outside her door. His parents were banished to separate cubby-holes in the attic, his sister to the groom's room above the stables. The staff had been dismissed. Madriga ran the house, Florn, the garden. Pansy was to carry out all other manual work, beginning with excavations for a pool in the middle of the lawn. Tamorna had no direct contact with these three, her orders being mediated by Rafael . So it began as it meant to go on. Rafael dreamed about her solidly, romantically every night. Each day the blows and insults he received defiled the dreams, ridiculed the romance. His behaviour condensed into two elementary traits; sulkiness and obedience.

The cycles of Pansy and Madriga were soon arrested. Wiry black hairs, which they were forbidden to remove, began to sprout in all the wrong places. Their voices began to deepen. In response to her daily picking and shoveling, Pansy's slim body became wreathed in improbable muscles. The glimpses they caught of Tamorna were enough to push them into love with her, an autonomous love which enfeebled their hatred, a perverse love which thrived on unrequitedness. Their dreams grew as incongruous as Rafael's; in them, she was goddesslike - constant, just, wise and kind. In some ways Florn had the best of it. He'd always secretly envied his gardener, secretly admired his gardener's enthusiasm for gardening, secretly desired his gardener's wife. The gardener himself couldn't live without his work. He dwindled into apathy. Within three months of his dismissal he was dead. The poor wife being beside herself, Florn did what he could to comfort her. He brought her vegetables, fruit, orchids, yet he could never quite escape the shame.

"I didn't sack him," he insisted. "I wouldn't have sacked him for the world. It was Tamorna."

The gardener's widow wasn't interested in politics. Whatever was going on up at the house was beyond both her ken and her curiosity. Nevertheless, she vaguely despised Florn, while accepting his edible gifts.

* * *

Leopold, their cousin, arrived about six months into the regime. He was appalled by what he found. He prided himself on being a freethinker, but he wasn't freethinking enough to relish the sight of Pansy's muscles, let alone her moustache. (They'd been more or less committed to each other since childhood, one of the purposes of this visit being to bring about some kind of consummation.) But it was Florn who shocked him most. At least the others showed some resentment, whereas Florn didn't even seem to mind his new meniality;

"How can you accept it? I don't understand."

"It's just one of those things."

"What does that mean?"

"She may not be here very long."

"Or she may be here for years. You know how unpredictable they are."

"No, she'll soon get bored and move on."

Leo had always respected his uncle, for his natural authority and strength. Now, he silently pronounced him spineless.

* * *

As soon as Tamorna heard about his presence she had him banned from the estate. When Rafael came to inform him of this edict Leo appeared to acquiesce; he shook hands with his cousin and walked off whistling down the drive. But instead of returning to his own country he hung about in the village until dark. Then he crept back through the woods, through the stables and up into Pansy's room. She lay exhausted on her pallet. He spoke to her without looking at her. He spoke to the person he'd carried inside him all these years. She was too tired to argue when he brought up the idea of poison, too tired to do anything but yawn and nod while he began to decorate the idea with all the philosophical and practical justifications he could think of.. He continued talking even after she was asleep, only stopping when he himself could no longer keep his eyes open. At dawn he arose and disappeared back to the village. This went on for a few nights. During the day, while she dug, she turned over some of his arguments in her mind. The only one which could appeal to her profoundly ambiguous feelings about Tamorna was that in killing her they'd be doing her, as well as themselves, a favour. Leo claimed that she was just as much a victim as they were, that she was compelled to be a tyrant just as much as they were compelled to be tyrannised ...

* * *

One morning, about a week after Leopold's apparent departure, Rafael went in as usual with Tamorna's breakfast. He found her flushed and unconscious. Although he'd never touched her before he courageously placed his hand on her forehead. The heat which surged into his palm astounded him. She opened her eyes. He immediately retreated a couple of steps.

"So you do?" she murmured.

"What?"

"Love me?"

"Yes," he gasped, incredulous.

His legs swooned; his stomach panged; all his dreams about her were coming true.She threw off the covers. He stared at her burning, glistening nakedness.She held out her arms; he fell between them. She began freeing him from his clothes.

"But you're ill," he said.

"No... I'm cured... I'm free... I never felt better."

"But you're boiling."

"It's wonderful."

He shook his head, almost sobbed;

"I've dreamed about this for so long."

"So have I."

"But why didn't you say anything?"

"I couldn't. Don't think I didn't want to. I just couldn't."

* * *