We found the bodies in the studio, his wife draped over him as if keeping him warm.Except for the princess, the funeral desecrated his memory. Neither...the Estonian nor his wife had family. Colleagues and few friends attended. He was too shy for friendship. The colleagues consisted of fellow artists doing similar work. I admired their canvases. I didn't admire them. Their eulogies were inarticulate and thankfully short. The princess wrote a poem. It quoted him. She breathed his last words.. It's pretty easy, after the day I've had."I'd be grateful for," I try to recall the word "a lift to your home, if you happened to be going there. I'm happy to find my own way, otherwise."She stared at me, an inscrutable look on her face."Get in."We travelled in silence for a short while, then Sadie pulled over. It was starting to rain and I wondered if she was being cautious, but then I noticed her tears. She began to cry properly then, and after a moment I clumsily retracted the restraint. More

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