Jim stopped breathing for a second, as if someone had pinched his nose, and began to roll over onto his back. I got out of the way just in time. Eyes still closed, he put a palm over his face and rubbed his temple with his thumb. He swallowed and the gurgle rattled past his ribs.

He turned his face to me. ‘All right?’ His eyes were stuck together at the edges.

I nodded.

He exhaled heavily and tipped his chin up. ‘Storm’s off.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you sleep?’ His voice was scratchy.

‘Yeah.’ I grinned sheepishly. ‘Thanks.’

He smiled at the ceiling and moved his arm under my neck, gathering me to his side, my hands scrunched up next to him.

We just lay there like that for a while. I could picture his heat creeping onto me, spreading like an oil spill. He seemed as casual and unaffected as anything, as if I’d always been there, his hill wife, chopping wood by his side, peeling the fur from rabbits, letting my leg hair grow. I thought I could hear tiny raindrops again, but it was him, blinking.

‘How old are you, Polly?’

‘Old enough.’

More raindrops. ‘Old enough for what?’

‘Whatever you were thinking about.’

He breathed a short laugh. No harm in trying. I mean, surely he wanted to? He was right there.

Jim turned suddenly and looked at me so intently that I felt like he was trying to melt me down.

‘What?’ I said, petulantly. Trying to mask my nerves.

He just kept looking, his arm underneath my ear, and I didn’t dare say anything else and just stared back. He put his other hand at my waist, hooking a finger underneath my T-shirt, and when I didn’t move, went up over my lower ribs and back down over my stomach. His palm was boiling, as if he’d been holding it over a gas ring. I tilted onto my back so that my stomach flattened a bit. And then he was kissing me, a few quick ones, and some longer.

I pulled away. ‘I need to clean my teeth.’

He had a smile and a frown mixed up together. ‘No you don’t.’

‘My mouth tastes gross.’

He kissed me again and pursed his lips mock-seriously, squinting into the air above my head. ‘Tastes fine to me.’

I’d never kissed anyone with a beard before. I kept getting mouthfuls of moustache along with lips and teeth and tongue. Scottish Beard moss.

Jim pushed my T-shirt and bra up with his knuckles. Fucking hell.

He pulled back at my sharp in-breath and looked at me carefully. ‘Too much?’

I shook my head.

‘Sure?’

I nodded.

He cupped my breast and kissed the other and his hand was on my hip, which I hoped seemed bony, and he was pulling my knee towards him and rolling over between my legs and I got my hands at his waistband and I stopped. He froze, too.

‘Do you … have a condom?’ Tongue in tooth. ‘I’m not – sorry – I’m not on the pill.’