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Being a bloke Especially with Nathan Occasionally, before the evening routine, they would go and sit at the end of the garden and Nathan would crack open a couple of beers So about some woman they had seen on the television, and it wouldn’t sound like Will at all But I understood he needed this; he needed sos It was a se, separate life

Co an eyebrow at hts On the two occasions I had worn those he hadn’t said anything, but siht with the world

‘You sawwashing out on a line The line itself was hidden in what Mrs Traynor called the Kitchen Garden I think she didn’t want anything asthe view of her herbaceous borders My own e of pride It was like a challenge to her neighbours: Beat this, ladies! It was all Dad could do to stop her putting a second revolving clothes dryer out the front

‘He askedabout it’

‘Oh’ I kept my face a studied blank And then, because he see, ‘Evidently not’

‘Was he with so I rolled it up, and placed it in the empty laundry basket I turned to him

‘Yes’

‘A woht about this for a minute

‘I’m sorry if you think I should have told you,’ I said ‘But it … it didn’t seem like my business’

‘And it’s never an easy conversation to have’

‘No’

‘If it’s any consolation, Clark, it’s not the first time,’ he said, and headed back into the house

Deirdre Bellows saidin my notepad, place names and question otten I was even on a bus I was trying to work out a way of getting Will to the theatre There was only one within two hours’ drive, and it was showing Oklaho to ‘Oh What A Beautiful Morning’, but all the serious theatre was in London And London still seeet Will out of the house, but we had pretty much reached the end of as available within an hour’s radius, and I had no idea how to get hio further

‘In your own little world, eh, Louisa?’

‘Oh Hi, Deirdre’ I scooched over on the seat to make room for her

Deirdre had been friends with Mus shop and had been divorced three ti, and a fleshy, sad face that looked like she was still dreaht ould coet the bus but my car’s in for a service How are you? Your ’

This is the thing about growing up in a s is secret – not the ti at the out-of-town supermarket car park when I was fourteen, nor the fact that my father had re-tiled the downstairs loo The minutiae of everyday lives were currency for woood, yes’

‘And well paid’

‘Yes’

‘I was so relieved for you after the whole Buttered Bun thing Such a sha all the useful shops in this town I reh street All we needed was a candlestick lance at my list and closed my notepad ‘Still At least we do have somewhere to buy curtains How’s the shop?’

‘Oh, fine … yes … What’s that, then? Sos that Will ht like to do’

‘Is that your disabled man?’

‘Yes My boss’

‘Your boss That’s a nice way of putting it’ She nudgedon at university?’

‘She’s good And Tho the country, that one I have to say, though, Louisa, I was always surprised you didn’t leave before her We always thought you were such a bright little thing Not that we still don’t, of course’

I raised a polite smile I wasn’t sure what else I could do

‘But still Soot to do it, eh? And it’s nice for your mum that one of you is happy to stay so close to home’

I wanted to contradict her, and then I realized that nothing I had done in the last seven years suggested I had either any ambition or any desire to move further than the end of ine snarled and juddered beneath us, and had a sudden sense of ti whole chunks of it inthe sao round and round the track The same petty concerns The same routines

‘Oh, well Here’sher patent handbag over her shoulder ‘Give your mum my love Tell her I’ll be round toot a tattoo,’ I said suddenly ‘Of a bee’

She hesitated, holding on to the side of the seat

‘It’s on my hip An actual tattoo It’s perlanced towards the door of the bus She looked a bit puzzled, and then gavesmile