“I hope he was better at it.”
“Mm, considerably. I did marry him.”
“Oh, Michael.” Ada tugged suddenly on his arm. “You will come and sit next to me, will you not?”
Esther shook her head. “Incorrigible.”
“You aren’t going to push me into a stream or anything, are you?” he asked.
She laughed. “Don’t be silly, I just want to be near the best-looking man in the room.”
Micha flushed, tried to stammer out a response, and realised he had no idea what to say.Thank you? That’s very flattering, but I like men, actually. You’re scaring me, stop it.
“That makes no sense.” Esther came to his rescue. “You should arrange for him to sit on the other side of the room so you can have an unhindered view. I mean, heaven forefend you came here to read a book.”
Ada huffed. “Don’t sneer, dear, it doesn’t suit you. And, anyway, there’s no harm in it. Everyone will be green with envy, and Michael will be able to tell me all the gossip about Thomas.”
“But ... but ...” Micha flapped his hands. “I don’t have any gossip.”
“Believe me,” said Esther, dryly. “That will not stop her acquiring some.”
“Also,” added Ada, her eyes darting like hawks about the room, “we can claim that sofa by the window. It looks by far the best choice.”
Micha had half-hoped, half-expected he would be next to Thomas, but now he realised what a ridiculous notion that had been. What had he imagined? That they would sit there like courting sweethearts, body to body, hand in hand?
Ruff was rolled away and Micha let himself be dragged onto the sofa, with Ada claiming his left and Esther his right. Ruff gambolled after them and tried to squeeze between Micha’s legs, an intimacy Micha firmly declined. Finally, the endeavour was abandoned, and Ruff consented to laying his chin possessively over Micha’s knees instead.
Esther had twisted round to look out of the window. “I don’t like the look of that sky.”
Micha also turned. Grey was amassing on the horizon, stained ominously pinkish by the setting sun.
“I thought it was ‘red sky at night, shepherd’s delight,’” said Ada.
“That’s not red sky.” Esther pointed at the clouds. “That’s a storm coming.”
“Oh don’t, it’s been such a beautiful autumn, I should hate to see it spoiled.”
“I don’t control the weather, Ada.”
Micha hid a smile behind his teacup.
“I’ve never understood that saying anyway,” went on Ada, entirely unrebuked. “I don’t see what the colour of the sky has to do with whether it’s sunny or rainy.”
Esther shrugged. “It’s probably just an old wives’ tale.”
“Actually,” offered Micha, “it’s because weather moves from west to east, so a red sunset in the west means good weather is coming towards you, and a red sunrise in the east means good weather is going away.”
They stared at him. “And clever too,” sighed Ada.
Micha shifted uncomfortably. “A friend told me.”
Speaking of Isidore was a habit both compulsive and self-destructive. He knew he should let it heal, but without the wound, there would have been nothing. As if Isidore had never happened or never meant anything. As if he had not changed everything. Michawaited for the dull twist of pain, but it did not come. A strange panic flared. It was like reaching for something and finding it gone. He dug his fingers deeper.
“He liked knowing those sort of things,” he went on. “The whys of the world.”
Nothing. Nothing at all. An emptiness deeper than opium.
“Ah,” said Esther, with an arch look that suggested she believed Micha was simply too modest to admit to his own curiosities, “but did this ‘friend’ know the Shakespeare reference. ‘Like a red morn that ever yet betokened Wreck to the seaman.’”
