Chapters (67)
- Cover
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
‘No? I’ve been renting this for over ten years – really doesn’t make financial sense.’
Another pause. A wind had got up. If it increased and came from the North-East down the close it would batter at the flat all night.
‘February,’ Serrailler said. ‘Feels as if it’s been February for about a year.’
‘January another year before that.’
‘Haven’t heard from Hannah for a while . . . how’s she doing?’
‘Good . . . I think. Understudying the lead – hasn’t actually gone on though, she’s just in the chorus She sends crazy texts. Honestly, I don’t really know my sister any more, she doesn’t belong in my world.’
‘Not true, just that she has another as well.’
He looked at Sam but the look was evaded. Simon waited on a count of two full minutes, reminded as he did so how endless that two minutes always seemed on Remembrance Sunday when he was standing in aching cold.
‘OK, spill, Sammy. What’s up?’ he said.
Sam was looking down at his left shoe on which the lace was broken in half and did not reply.
‘All right, I’ll start. How’s the course?’
‘Come on, Mum will have told you, she tells you bloody everything.’
‘She doesn’t actually.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Sam, listen to me. Other than the inevitable and essential lies about is there really a Father Christmas, when you were five, I don’t think I have ever not told you the truth. I may have said nothing, but that can be necessary. So, no, she hasn’t said anything and you don’t have to. Tell me to mind my own.’
‘Sorry.’
‘That’s OK.’
‘I’ve quit. At least I think I have. Now say it.’
‘What? I quit medicine after three years which was a lot longer and caused a lot more problems but it was the right decision. You’re not a quitter so I guess yours is too.’
‘It just . . . I dunno.’
‘Man in woman’s world?’
‘No, wasn’t that, they were great, and there’s plenty of men about anyway – obstetricians, anaesthetists . . . just not many midwives. It wasn’t funny looks, it wasn’t that I didn’t seem to fit in, it wasn’t the mothers or the dads and it definitely wasn’t the babies.’
‘So, what?’