She looked the other way as he undressed. She kept her eyes shut when he touched her. She could at least do that, but when she felt something other than his flesh against her leg, she had to look. “What’s that?”

Beneath the covers, Douglas was naked but for a red spotted handkerchief tied around the base of his stiff private parts. They looked absurd, more absurd than usual, like he’d dressed them up to be a highway man. He was sweating and groping and trying to find position. He stopped and leant on one elbow. “Now come on darling, we don’t want to take chances. Not yet. You’ve only just begun to feel better haven’t you?”

He didn’t look like he wanted to wait. “But what will that do?”

“A chap at the club told me.” His chin was against her cheek. “It’ll stop the swimmers.”

“But I don’t want to stop them.” She pulled at it, but Douglas grabbed her hand away.

“Careful. Don’t want to pull the old chap off.” He was making light, and he was sweating. He was finding her, feeling his way.

“But Douglas—”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Too late, the piercing awfulness, the vileness of that entry when parts that should be somewhere else were forced up against each other, when some part of him was in some part of her and it was wrong, all wrong, all tight and pain and sweat, when it was all she could do to hold her breath until that moment, that last grunt and it was over.

He rolled away. Bastard, she thought as he got up and left the room. She heard the bathroom taps running as another kind of wet seeped between her legs.

But she didn’t think bastard three weeks later. Three weeks later she threw up.

Enid, 1921

10

Enid, 1921

She tied her dressing gown around her and went up to kiss Fagus goodnight. There was an epidemic of Sleepy Sickness sweeping the country and her parochial medic had decided that Fagus had caught it early on, causing him to fall in the first place. His symptoms were exactly like the virus; all he wanted to do was sleep. He’d found his voice again – he spoke when she touched his head, he turned his face towards her, and his hands reached for hers. He could sit up a little better too; not for long, but enough to eat without spillage. When they changed his sheets, he flopped in Everett’s arms, but at least they could carry him to the bathroom now, and he could use the WC.