“I am sure he must be.” Ada ignored him. “He has such a melancholy look.”
Micha looked to Esther for help, but she only shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“I have given the matter a lot of thought,” Ada continued. “They are soulmates, I am sure of it.”
“Friends,” whispered Micha. “They are friends.”
“For now. We must bring them together, help them recognise the strength of their true feelings for each other.” Ada’s eyes glinted. “The depth of their passion.”
Esther gave an unladylike snort. “I knew it was a mistake to let you read a book. It has addled your mind.”
“You may pour scorn on me if you wish, but you cannot deny it is a lovely idea.”
“They do seem well suited,” admitted Esther. “I have rarely seen Thomas smile as much as he does in her presence. I think she makes him laugh. That is a vitally necessary quality when it comes to a life partner.”
“And what a handsome couple they will make. What lovely children they will have. I can see them with five or six, at least.”
“I’m surprised you have not already picked out their linen and silverware.”
“That,” said Ada, laughing, “they may do for themselves.” She sighed happily. “How romantic. Even you must admit it is romantic, Esther.”
“It is quite romantic,” said Esther. “I have already admitted it.”
“And what else are we to do this winter?”
“You could try,” snarled Micha, “minding your own fucking business.”
He jumped off the stile and fled. He could not go back the way he had come, nor across the meadow, so he struck out randomly, blundering through the fields without direction or purpose. He felt ridiculous and guilty and sickened all at once, and it somehow helped to keep walking, as though it could prevent him from having to think or take any note of his feelings. But eventually he came to the limits of distance and had to stop or accept that he had run so far from himself that he had run away from Thomas as well.
Micha had been alone in the world and without means before, but at the time, he had not understood how hopeless his situation was or how far he had to fall. He had, in short, not known enough to be afraid. But the memory of the toil and privation, the uncertainty and despair, was enough now to fill his heart with dread and halt his footsteps.
He had come to the outskirts of a small wood, little more than a cluster of naked trees, and he stood ankle-deep in leaf mould and mulch. Against the far horizon, he caught a gleam of white against the grey-green hills.
Was this . . .
He brushed his fingertips against the bark of the nearest tree. Had he pressed Thomas here and kissed him? Had he lain with him here, on this bare earth? With only the sky as witness to the sin and the beautyof it? Was this where it had all gone wrong? The moment Micha’s soul had cracked, and Thomas filled up the spaces like sunlight.
He dropped to his knees into the dirt, and that was where Ruff found him some time later. He pushed his face into Micha’s, and, for once, he was neither rough nor boisterous.
“Oh fuck.” Micha buried his wet face into Ruff’s silky fur.
Eventually, he stood up, made a futile attempt to brush off his trousers, and sheepishly accepted the handkerchief Esther was holding out to him. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry.”
Esther shrugged. “We all occasionally fall subject to the urge to curse at Ada.”
“Is she upset with me?”
“She’ll be fine. It was a bit of excitement for her. And she’s sorry too. As am I. It was thoughtless of us. I should have guessed.”
“Uh ...” Micha gave her a look wild with mingled hope and panic. “Guessed? I don’t—”
“You love her too.”
Micha burst out laughing. It wasn’t the slightest bit amusing, but it was the only socially acceptable sound he felt capable of making. And then, just as suddenly, he couldn’t bear it, not for another minute, not for another second. Not another lie. He was drowning in them. He would die of them. “Him,” he said. “I’m in love with him.”
There was a long silence. Oh fuck, what had he done? The village was going to rise up against him like he was Mary Shelley’s monster.
“I beg your pardon?”
