That’s right, Lucy, that’s right,’ he said, overwhelmed by joy. ‘There’s infinite hope, infinite hope, all the hope in the world. Evenfor us.

Every part of her felt the emptiness of life without John. She imagined she’d been skinned, and that ice-cold air was blowing over her flayed flesh. Staring at the white walls, she felt she was floating in some universe of her own, alone, damaged beyond repair, irredeemably cut off from love, from hope, from life itself.

That’s right, Lucy, that’s right,’ he said, overwhelmed by joy. 'There’s infinite hope, infinite hope, all the hope in the world. Evenfor us.

That’s right, Lucy, that’s right,’ he said, overwhelmed by joy. ‘There’s infinite hope, infinite hope, all the hope in the world. Even for us.