‘Must be the sun.’ Charlie lay back, locked his hands beneath his head and stared up at the wispy clouds drifting above the trees. ‘There were times when I thought last winter was never going to end.’ ‘It was a hard winter where you were?’ ‘Freezing,’ he replied shortly. Reaching out he picked a long stem of grass and pushed it into his mouth. Below them the stream frothed and gurgled into the top end of Shoni’s pond. Dragonflies hovered low over the water. The croaking of a frog joined in with the birdsong. He felt contented and at peace with himself, Alma, and the world, for the first time since he had come home. But it couldn’t last. This evening there would be other people; afterwards just one final night together. The talking that had to be done had to be done now, or not at all. And he still had to make amends for the harsh things he had said when he had arrived. ‘This High Street shop of yours, it’s doing well?’ ‘It averages ten pounds a week clear profit after all the overheads have been accounted for,’ she said proudly.
