Bror was afraid of the dark. Not simply afraid but panicstricken. To cure him of his fear father would send him off at night to the earth cellar or the hay barn. When bror asked for a torch the answer was always the same. Get used to go without a light and your darksight will get better.

But bror’s problem had nothing to do with his eyesight. He dreaded the dark because he sensed that anything might happen and anyone materialise without warning. I felt the opposite because you could become invisible in the dark and disappear off father’s radar.

I was practically anaesthetised with tiredness but even so sleep wouldn’t come. And when I was finally dozing off I got a text message. It was from john.

Can we meet up he wrote. No I wrote back. Why. I don’t want to be with you.

Are you still angry.

What do you think. I called diana. Her number is not in use.

Maybe I can help you. How.

I’ll tell you. Where are you. Outside.

I pulled a cardigan over the nightdress and went downstairs telling myself I’m not afraid of john. But before opening the front door I went to the kitchen and pocketed a fruitknife. 198

He stood outside hunched up and looking cold. There was a cut on his forehead and his cheek was slightly bruised after the blow from my fist. Oddly enough my fist was allright. Not even tender.

We looked at each other for a while before he decided to come inside. I wanted to be angry with him but couldn’t. Seeing this odd man with his kafkaeyes made me feel warm inside.

Hi jana he said. It will be freezing soon. A cold wind followed him into the house.

I put on water for tea. He built a fire. Where would men be without fires to tend.

We sat at the kitchen table warming our hands on mugs of tea. I had never seen a more unhappy man. I wanted to ask him about many things but no sensible sentences formed in my mind.

So we went upstairs. When I took the cardigan off the fruitknife fell out.

He saw it and his sad face cracked in a smile. You’ve always been a warrior he said.

I’ve always been fearful I thought.

He went to lie in my girlish bed as near the wall as he could. I crept in next to him. I shouldn’t have but lacked the strength of mind to resist. I let my fingers stray across his chest and down over his belly. Everything was hard and angular and hairy and rough. I moved over to lie on top of him. The edge of the bed grazed my knee. Breathed in his skin. Deep breaths that made me dizzy from excess oxygen. He pulled his fingers through my hair. Held my head tightly to see.