I felt drowsy from the warmth from the stove and the hot coffee. I should’ve got dressed and carried on walking up the hill to my brother but my body felt listless and resisted going back out into the blizzard. I pulled my legs up and tried to work out what that smell was. It wasn’t nasty. I imagined some foreign places might smell like it. A foostie smell my mother would have said and perhaps it was just old dirt I was sniffing for like a dog on the trail. But however much I sniffed I couldn’t identify it.

You sleep here if you like he said. I can bed down on the floor or sleep on a chair. It was a pullout bed. I usually find it distasteful to be physically close to people I don’t know but offered to share it with him. It would be a tight fit.

He blew out the lamp. It was only then it struck me that the house had no electricity. A rare kind of silence filled the shadowy kitchen as the wind snow and cold fought on the other side of the singleglazed windows.

It wasn’t easy to sleep. Hours passed while we listened to each other’s breathing. I was nearest the room and one of my legs was resting on the hard edge of the bed. He was pressed against the back of the sofa. I sensed his body against mine even though we barely touched. And when he breathed out I breathed in his breaths as if we were stuck underwater sharing an oxygen cylinder.

My leg slid back down into the bed. His arm couldn’t hold out any longer and fell back into an easier place. When my hand slipped into his relaxed fist my mind found peace. 12

It was light when I woke and the room’s mood had changed from last night. The windows were framed by sunbleached curtains. Wear and tear had left small rips in the weave. On the window sills, crowds of potted geraniums were almost about to come out of their winterdoze.

John was already up and about. He had put new logs on the fire and added a couple of heaped spoonfuls to the coffee dregs from last night.

I watched him from my horizontal position. An orange lumberjack sweater was doing things at the worktop by the sink. When the sweater turned towards me I saw his face in daylight for the first time and couldn’t resist the impulse to look away.

Don’t worry he said I’m used to it.

He laid the table with coffee cups soft flatbread butter and västerbotten cheese. Looked at me smiling a little and hoped I had slept well. Settled down with his saucer and sugarlump.

What happened afterwards I asked. I mean after your brother died.