‘That feels so good,’ she said. ‘My god, I’ve really missed this.’

Assi taking Sarah. Sarah taking Assi.

‘He’ll write back,’ I said. ‘And if he doesn’t, he’s not worth it. So, no loss – I mean, apart from the money.’

She sighed. ‘I just keep asking myself what’s wrong with me.’

‘Obviously I haven’t really met him. But I’m pretty sure you’re not the problem, Sarah. From what I’ve heard and seen he sounds like a total … Wait, sorry … I thought I heard Sophie.’

I rubbed, pushed, pulled. Sarah groaned, picked something from the bedclothes, a thread. ‘I don’t suppose you’d want to come to the retreat with me if he doesn’t reply?’

‘Oh, maybe not. Might feel a bit weird, given it’s all romantic and you’d intended it for –’

‘Every cloud has a silver bullet,’ she said, laughing. ‘Anyway, yeah, I don’t know what’s best.’

Sex probably wasn’t the answer she was grappling for, unlike me; even though, like me, she was feeling confused and unloved.

I kneaded her neck softly. ‘We could always lie down for a bit.’

Heartbeat, boom, heartbeat. The adrenaline of imminent rejection.

‘Yeah, OK.’

Your smile, which lights up your face …

We got into bed and pulled the doona up and over us, faced each other side-on, hugged, started – don’t reject me – touching, not kissing, sadly, but … Sarah’s hand between my legs. It was happening, shit, don’t fuck this up, Chris.

Reclamation was the thing – taking back what my lizard brain believed to be mine after a series of breaches. I helped remove her pyjama top, threw it onto the floor, kissed her shoulder, her neck, her –

‘Do you think we could turn off the lamp?’ she said.

‘Yeah, sure.’ I reached across her, fumbled for the switch, click, rolled onto my back, whipped off my boxers, come on, my work shirt, hurry up, threw them in the direction of the floor, helped Sarah remove her pyjama pants, threw them too.

I steered her onto her back in the gloom, got my legs, my clumsy body, between –

‘Fuck, sorry …’ I’d kneed her thigh. I was more accustomed to Biddy’s body these days, true, but … Crave me, Sarah. Desire me. In a nutshell, be gagging for it, Sarah.

I got myself into position on top of her, she pulled, I pushed and – Christ – I was inside Sarah, unsure of myself, doomed to failure, but, oh … She groaned slightly – that was good: you could tell a lot from a groan: whether someone was hungry, had a head injury, had received bad news …

‘Yeah, that’s good, Chris, but … maybe slow down a little?’

She smelt of dirt, her dirt, I loved her dirt. I had passion, virility, had to make this really, really –

‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘It’s maybe this bloody …’