Fish Change Direction In Cold Weather - Plot & Excerpts
I’m in here!’ ‘Alexis, just give me time to take off my coat and hat and mittens.’ Simon smiled: his evacuee still needed to talk. He found Michel in the kitchen and went over to give him a gentle slap on the bum. ‘What’s this lovely meal you’re preparing?’ ‘Escalopes Volpini with white wine.’ ‘The best in town!’ ‘No, the best is . . .’ Michel turned to face Simon, who held up his mouth, tenderly, ‘. . . the little evening kiss!’ While Michel was turning the escalopes, Simon stroked his shoulder, and they stayed like that for a moment, close, happy, relieved. The evening before, when Simon had joined Michel in bed, he had given him the gist of his conversation with Alexis. A psychoanalyst is not supposed to do this, but since his client was unaware of what was actually going on, Simon was practising in secret and was therefore not bound by the pledge of confidentiality. ‘Did you tell him we’re gay?’ ‘You think he didn’t notice?’ ‘Then the whole neighbourhood will find out.’ ‘So?’ ‘And what if the association finds out?’ ‘So, let the association find out.
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