‘I don’t know what I’ll want in four or six years’ time,’ she said slowly. ‘With whatever condition I have, well, let’s just say I have finally realised I need to see what happens before I plan too much. But just now?’ She laid her hand on his. ‘I love you, William Ryan.’

‘And you love Alex Romanov.’

She was too honest to deny it. ‘Not the way I love you. You may have noticed that you are the one sitting next to me tonight, not Alex. And that is my choice, not his.’

‘I didn’t think . . .’

‘Idiot,’ she said.

He seemed strangely more reassured by the insult than anything she had said before.

‘There is only one thing I need to know, William Ryan. Okay, two things. Do you love me? Passionately adore me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t be such a bloke. Say it. Say — I passionately adore you, Scarlett.’

A grin, at last. ‘I passionately adore you, Scarlett.’

‘Good answer. The next question: do you passionately want to come to bed with me?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said William Ryan.

And that answer, thought Scarlett, was sufficient.

She woke to the clunk of the newspaper hitting the outside wall of the flat and considered.

She had been used to hands tending her all her life and, at least for as long as she could remember, they had been kind hands, even loving. Sometimes they imposed pain or discomfort, but only briefly, and to help, not harm. Mostly the touch had ranged from pleasant to pleasurable: the daily massages to prevent bedsores; the gentle stretches, Nancy’s hands stroking her forehead to help her to sleep and ward off any nightmare.

She had expected pleasure from William’s touch too; she had read about it in great detail, from the novelettes some of the nurses left in the staff sitting room, which lacked specifics but contained a plenitude of exclamation marks, to medical texts. It would indeed be great pleasure, and centred on the three spots of her body that her handlers had avoided.

It had not been like that at all. Scarlett grinned.

William stirred next to her, and grinned too. ‘Well?’ he asked.

‘Yes, extremely well done,’ said Scarlett Kelly-O’Hara. Her grin widened. ‘But I think we need a longer prac session before I give the performance a final grade.’ She laughed as he reached for her again.

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Slippery Bob

Mix kangaroo brains with flour and water to make a batter. Fill an iron pot with emu fat or mutton fat and heat over the fire. Add spoonfuls of the brain batter. When the dumplings rise to the surface of the fat, spoon out and serve.

OVERFLOW, 1880–81

FLORA