Inside the house, she turns on the heater and watches the bar slowly change colour. Grunnie’s last book is on the couch. She’s anxious to read it, hoping for light in her grandmother’s life in the ‘new world’. She hadn’t told Avril about Kitta, or about the little boy who flew off the cliff. She’d hinted, she’d warned, but Avril was avid for a love story, and you could not have one without the other. What was it Grunnie had said in her quaint way? Joy and grief—you have to kneel to both.

She jumps when the phone rings.

Hello?

Hello yourself. Gideon. Saw your car drive in. Could you stand a bit of company? A slice of spinach-and-fetta, perhaps?

She hesitates only a few seconds but knows it won’t be lost on him. Come on over. I’ve just opened a bottle of that South African Shiraz I told you about.

You sure? Because——

Yes, I’m sure. And Gideon? Wait till you see what I’ve just been given for my twenty-first.

~

Gideon holds a glass to the light. It glints and flashes, the bowl changing colour.

He takes a sip. Mmm. Peppery?

Laura’s no connoisseur; she just likes it. I thought of satsumas, god knows why.

He swirls a mouthful, considering, as she puts a bowl of olive tapenade on the table. Satsumas … the blood-red plum, the Shiraz grape. A marriage of vine and tree. He grins. You’ve an interesting palate there, Dr Ellery.

He spreads olive paste onto a cracker and offers it to her. He’s baked his own sea-salt crackers. Who does that? she wonders.

She shakes her head. They look delicious. But I’m not that hungry.

You’re never hungry.

You’re never not.

Muthic? This through a mouthful of crumbs.

OK, surprise me.

A guitar riff as she puts the pie in the oven. Tom Waits. ‘Downtown Train.’

He’s watching her closely as she tells him the news about Cooper. You can’t put much past Gideon. A warm, reassuring hand on her arm but he’s cautious with his words.

Well, that seems … positive. An inflection. It’s a question.

Mmm is all she’s willing to say, but she’s thinking: Will he be brain-damaged? Will he be able to handle the pain? Will he remember? Is it better for him not to remember? If she speaks aloud her fears about Cooper coming out of the coma, they will be released, out there, and it’s better not to give some thoughts air to breathe.

She pours herself another glass, tops up Gideon’s and changes the subject. Because, for once, there is another subject. Meggie.