“He can be quite hard work.”

Tyler shot a wary look back in the direction of the house. “Well, aye, but don’t let him hear you saying that, for God’s sake.”

Sinead shook her head. “The other guy. Rufus. Everyone round here knows him. He makes sure of that. Gets himself in the local paper every couple of weeks for something or other.”

“Oh. Right. Aye,” Tyler said. He gave a little cough. “Maybe don’t mention to the boss that I thought you were talking about him.”

Sinead mimed zipping her lips closed, and Tyler sighed with relief. “I knew I liked you,” he said. “Maybe we should get married? I’m game, if you are?”

She smiled back at him. “The last proposal was better,” she said.

They both sat on what was left of the low wall that ran between the house and the outbuilding. It was an old drystane dyke that had succumbed to gravity and the elements. Quite some time ago, too, judging by the covering of moss on the fallen rocks and boulders.

For a while, they just sat there in silence, watching the activity further along the path. The wind was getting colder, and so they shuffled together for warmth and for comfort.

“You said anything to him yet?” Sinead asked.

Tyler had been waiting for the question. Dreading its arrival.

“Not yet,” he admitted.

“You need to say something. The operation’s on Thursday.”

Tyler nodded. Looked down. Swallowed.

“Don’t,” Sinead said. “Don’t even think about saying it.”

“I just thought… I mean, I know it needs doing. Of course. ASAP.”

“Good,” Sinead said, trying to end the sentence there.

“But… would a week make any difference? I mean, really?”

“Yes.”

Tyler plucked a long blade of grass from the ground in front of him and twisted it into a knot. “Aye, but… would it?”

Sinead shuffled a little away from him and turned so her knees were pointed in his direction. “So… what? You’re saying you want to put it off? The operation?”

“Just for a few days,” Tyler said. “You know, given what we’re dealing with here… This case, is… I’d hate to leave them in the lurch.”

“Jesus, Ty.”

“I’m just saying…”

“What? What are you saying?” Sinead demanded. “That you’ll get your cancer treated in a week? In a fortnight? Some day down the road? Your appointment is in three days. They rushed it through. And you want to push it back?”

“Just for a few days,” Tyler said, with even less conviction than last time. “Just… I just don’t want to let the boss down.”

Sinead stood up. “Oh, right,” she said, and the wind that blew around them felt colder still. “Well, lucky him.”

* * *