Think of MeWhen I open my eyes I see a small dark shape at the end of the pew under the window. A piece of cloth, a handkerchief perhaps? No, a womans headscarf. The blue is bright, Mediterranean. I cant for the life of me remember seeing it before. But all the same it seems familiar. More than familiar. As if Ive held it in my hands before. As if its been next to Yvettes skin. James Acton has come to the village of Upton to begin again. As his grief over the