"When I approached and told her the key-maker wasn't there she cursed filthily and threw something hard against the step, shouting, "What am I supposed to do with this now?" It bounced away. I waited while she stormed away and when she'd left I got onto all fours and found what she'd discarded. It was a bit of some engine. It looked like a heart, I remember that. I put it on the kitchen table. When, hours later, my father returned, he put down his heavy bags at the sight of it. "A woman brought it," I said. He picked it up and turned it over. "She threw it away and went." "Whatever this came from," he said, "what she wants is a key to make it start again." "Can't she just put it back in?" I said."