This is a novel full of hints and mysteries. Why does the Dutch woman rent a house in rural Wales, bringing with her a mattress, some bedding and a portrait of Emily Dickinson? What is the matter with her — at times she seems energetic, at others obscurely suffering. And what is she escaping from? In due course information filters through, in a series of deeper hints and teases, and the story switches back and forth between Wales and Amsterdam, where her husband and parents and a friendly policeman discuss the possible reasons for her flight — and speculate about her whereabouts, and how to trace her.
In Wales, the woman, a lecturer by profession, sets about making a home in the primitive farmhouse and reclaiming the garden and grounds belonging to it, and all this is described in satisfying detail. But the geese on the farm are disappearing one by one in a sinister — perhaps metaphorical — fashion; and on a solitary walk she has an encounter with a badger who bites her foot, necessitating a consultation with a local GP, whose medical ethics would certainly arouse the disapproval of the General Medical Council.
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