‘Give your head a rub with the towel, Joe.’

She poured some water from the kettle into the teapot, and clasping it in both of her hands she rocked it backwards and forwards for a few moments before emptying it out into the basin. She measured the tea into the pot and then poured more water in on top.

‘Would you make me some toast, Joe?’

She moved across the room with the teapot and put it down carefully in front of the fire.

‘Here.’

She picked up a small metal toasting fork that was leaning against the chimney and pulled the two ends. The fork grew as Joe watched.

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘A toasting fork.’

She handed it to him. He pushed the ends together and then pulled them apart again.

‘That’s a great gadget.’

She put a sliced loaf in its red and white wrapping down on the floor beside him.

‘Make lots,’ she said. ‘I’m starving.’

Joe balanced the first piece of bread on the three prongs of the fork and held it out towards the fire. The warmth came up the fork and along his arm through the old brown coat to his naked body. Oh. The bread curled inwards slightly with the heat from the fire. The warmth moved through him as a person moves around a room, touching objects here and there with careful fingers. He looked at the bread, the near side to the fire was just beginning to colour.

The fire was glowing evenly all over. Reliable.

The sea holds the land

With care in its hand.

Long fingers reach

Far in and greedily try to steal

Green fields.

A voice.

‘Joe.’

Her voice.

‘Oh … ah … what?’

‘The toast.’

Smoke.

‘Oh dear.’

He pulled the charred bread off the fork.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Just watch what you’re doing,’ said his brother.

‘You must have gone asleep,’ said Kathleen. She was pushing sausages round in the pan. There was a beautiful smell of frying.

‘No. I wasn’t asleep. I was just …’ He blushed. She took the burnt toast from his hand.

‘You must be tired, after all that walking and running and weather.’

He put another piece of bread on the fork.

‘Better luck next time.’

He made six perfect pieces of toast and Brendan buttered each one as it was ready and put it on a plate in front of the fire. The butter made golden pools on the toast as it melted.

‘There we are now.’

Kathleen put a plate full of sausages and baked beans on to Joe’s knee. Brendan poured out three mugs of dark brown tea and they all sat as close as they could to the fire and munched in silence, surrounded by the steaming clothes. The wind tried hard enough but couldn’t get through the window to join them.

‘That was great.’ They were the first words Brendan had spoken for a long time. He put his plate on the floor beside him and patted his stomach with what Joe considered to be a rather vulgar gesture.