The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. They had been informally introduced during floor hockey, when Katy had sent a puck flying into Lucy’s face. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood. ‘Come on, Hilary. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began.
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