She feels slightly embarrassed as she remembers how pleased she was to see him earlier, after she’d got his text inviting her round for a drink and supper. It was the first time she’d spent any time there. Usually they went off walking, or to Dartmouth or Kingsbridge, but she decided to accept the invitation. It was as if this moved the relationship on a little bit. She’s invited him back to hers but somehow he always slithers away from accepting. Never with a definite refusal but simply by turning the conversation a little so that she feels awkward repeating the invitation.

Amy rolls on to her side, gazing out of her window into the blaze of white light. Earlier, walking out to the creek, she wondered if she’d feel a bit shy, but somehow just the sight of him, flinging open the door, beaming at her, Reggie at his heels, dissolved her anxiety. She beamed back at him and then she was in his arms and kissing him, and it just felt like heaven. He’d poured her a glass of wine, taken something from the freezer to put in the oven, and they’d just fallen back into the pattern of all their previous encounters. When he kissed her she knew he wanted more than that – and so did she – but something held her back. He was so sweet, not pressing or trying to force the pace, that she’d held him tightly and muttered that she loved him, and then her shyness and uncertainty returned and she said that she must get back or Dad would start worrying. It was a bit feeble but he let her go, walking her back into the town but leaving her at the bottom of Buckley Street. He hadn’t said he loved her in return and now she feels even more anxious.

Restlessly, Amy turns back on to her other side and pulls the duvet over her head. She longs to feel more secure with him but he never talks about the future and she doesn’t know how to frame the question: how does he see their future together?

The moon sinks away into the west and between one thought and another she falls asleep.

PART TWO

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Fliss wakes, Hal is already up and gone, the sheet beside her cold to the touch. She lies for a moment, her eyes still closed, caught between sleep and wakefulness, her thoughts straying between the present and the past. Memories flit like moving pictures behind her closed eyes, all muddled up with other later experiences, and she shakes her head like a swimmer surfacing, opening her eyes to the present.