Chapter 23: Yes to the Other Question

"Get up," I said. "You'll ruin your knees on that lino."

"Is that a yes?"

"It's an instruction."

He got up slowly, still watching my face.

I dried my hands on the tea towel, put it down, and looked at him across the length of Bridie's kitchen.

"You may ask," I said. "Not today. But you may."

His breath went out of him.

"Thank you," he said, hoarse.

"Don't thank me. You've got a lot of Sundays."

The back door banged, and the girls came in with a bucket and one very unhappy worm.

By nine that night both children were asleep, Tilly in Bridie's big bed with the rabbit, Posy long since collected by Rafe's mother's car.

Bridie came out of her room in her dressing gown and shut the door softly behind her.

She looked at the two of us standing on the landing.

"I'm in with Tilly," she said. "I'm a heavy sleeper. I won't hear a thing."

"Gran."

"I'm seventy-two, not dead." She went back in, and I heard the key turn in the lock.

Rafe laughed under his breath.

"She's a tactician," he said.

"She's been planning this since Thursday."

I took his hand and led him along the landing to my old room.

It was the narrow one, under the eaves, with the sloped ceiling and the window onto the harbour.

I shut the door and leaned on it.

"You said Saturdays only," he said, very low. "With Bridie in the room."

"It's Sunday."

"So it is."

"And Bridie's locked in with a four-year-old. I'd say that's supervision."

He crossed the floor in two steps and framed my face in both hands.

He kissed me slowly.

The last time had been rain and fury and the stairs.

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