Some words
deserve a second look.

My knee is staying. Though it reserves the right to disagree with yours. Why did you need them to be a pair? You'd left a gap when the yellow jug disappointed you; you knew a window could survive losing something. Did you want this woman to admire the whole arrangement before she was allowed to take any of it home? Tell me what you were looking at when you said it.

Did you imagine her kitchen badly lit? I recognise the temptation to furnish a stranger's home with crimes against one's taste. But she'd come back after you were sharp with her, and she'd chosen something. That sounds like a second chance you made rather expensive. What did she say about the pair? And before you accuse me of looking severe, I am severe. You've simply arranged to sit on my flattering side.

Water beside her bed. That's a rather good use for a glass you chose well. I wish you'd let her have it. And yes, my imaginary kitchen has been demolished; I deserved the expense. What happened to the apology you'd rehearsed? I don't mean whether it would have saved the sale. You already owed her one before she pointed. Did you ever say it, or did 'thank you' take its place?

All right. No speech for you to deliver, and no imaginary reunion for me to direct. Though I object to being assigned the role of admiring your stationery; I have other talents, several available from this bench. What happened to those cards? You'd done the cutting and the sums. Was there someone you needed to show them to, or could you have walked straight into the window and put them beside the glasses?

I'm beside you. You needn't reserve the seat again every time the account gets worse; I have settled rather firmly into it. What went in their place? And tell me where you put the price cards when the glasses went back on the tray. I can picture the black dish quite clearly now, which is inconvenient. I rather want it, and I haven't yet discovered whether you'd have allowed me to buy it.

Once for the price, once because I liked watching you be obliging. A perfectly respectable afternoon. But a woman looking through the glass couldn't see the base, and she'd just been made to feel troublesome for knocking. Why should she have to risk you again to learn a number? You'd cut two cards already. Was the bare linen really so much better to look at than a price she could read from the pavement?

Fair correction. I keep marching her back into the shop because I want you to get another chance, which is rather a lot to demand of a woman who wanted some water. I'll leave her where your account leaves her. What did you tell this customer? I'm trying not to laugh at the cards, with limited success. Twenty minutes on a straight edge, and then your dish produces a small, badly organised menu.

Oh, I like her question. Unhelpfully, I also like you carrying too many things because a customer has asked something reasonable. There, I've laughed; you may charge me in wounded looks. What did you say? You didn't owe her the whole Thursday, but 'I changed the display' would have been awfully convenient. And did you leave the shorter glass on the counter afterwards? I'd like to know whether its little card finally got to do a day's work.

They permit a modest expedition. There, I'm up; give me a moment to persuade the coat to join us. Walk on this side, would you? I want the river in view and you within conversational reach. Where did the shorter glass go at closing? I shan't send it to a deserving bedside on your behalf. You have caught me furnishing enough rooms tonight. Tell me whose hand actually picked it up.

You paid to stop looking at it. Or is that another room I'm furnishing? I can understand buying something because it has become awkward to leave behind, but Saturday sounds rather specific. Were you expecting someone, or did you simply want to begin the morning without it there? And slow down at this uneven bit. I can pursue an uncomfortable question perfectly well at a dignified shuffle.

Yes, thank you. Your arm is a considerable improvement on the drainpipe I nearly courted earlier. I don't think you needed to make the glass unpleasant to justify her wanting it. Though I can see why a perfectly comfortable mouthful was unwelcome. Did you keep using it? I'm asking about breakfast and washing up, not whether you arranged a suitable punishment beside the sink. I rather want something ordinary to be allowed to happen next.

The hand has elected to stay. It makes very few useful decisions, so I encourage it when it does. And I believe you about wanting water. I still wish she'd had the chance to buy it; your cupboard needn't become a shrine to prove that. What did you do on Saturday morning, with the counter finally clear? Did you go straight to the desk, or was there something in that window you wanted to change?

Yes. My hand has survived both your cupboard and your accounting; I think it can manage a name. Who was it? And tell me what they actually did that Saturday, before I award them a magnificent black hat. I dislike the request about the card already. That doesn't mean I know the person who made it, or whether you moved it. You look particularly capable of letting me assume the wrong thing just now.

A rather costly view for the ceiling. Yes, I dislike it, though the black hat is looking premature. Did she finish the suggestion after you moved it? I'm interested in whether you heard her, not whether she offered an excellent solution. My sister could tell me a chair was on fire and I'd spend the first few seconds objecting to her tone. Fortunately for this coat, you aren't my sister. What did yours say next?

There. Less grip, same company. I was about to be fiercely useful on your behalf and discovered the card could stand perfectly well without me. I don't know about her 'always'; I wasn't there for always. But that morning she made the price readable and you went back to the desk. Did you leave it where she'd put it? And was her moving the bowl the same kind of help, or have I just replaced one convenient picture with another?

I'd have been angry too, after saying three times how I wanted it. That doesn't improve 'nothing' as an answer, but you needn't surrender the bowl because the card was sensible. I'm discovering I can dislike a different part of this every few yards. Excellent exercise; dreadful for choosing sides. When you said nothing, did she accept it? Or did one of you finally say what you were actually arguing about? I promise to leave the bowl lying down while you answer.

I'm still walking. Though if you introduce another disputed piece of crockery, I may require a chair. What did she ask to stop doing? Coming in, moving things, or being expected to know which help you wanted that morning? Those are guesses; you needn't choose from my menu. I rather like the two coffees. I'd like to know whether there was room for her to drink hers beside you.

I'd be tempted to move the box and declare myself an excellent sister by lunchtime. You would quite rightly find me unbearable. But she offered a different visit, and you answered as if she wanted a better inspection time. Was the shop actually busier later, or was that merely a true thing you could put between you? And did she take your answer as no? I'll allow you the wrapping paper without making it evidence of a lifelong failing.

You could want the bowl left alone and still want your sister. I refuse to make you choose; it would leave you with a very dull breakfast companion. But she had asked you to ask. Did you? An actual time, rather than standing beautifully in a doorway and hoping she would detect a vacancy? I ask as a woman currently enjoying an explicit invitation to keep her hand on your arm. The arrangement has its advantages.

Five minutes early. Reckless behaviour; I see why you prepared a statement about the bowl. But I like her asking for another seat. You'd offered coffee, and she was telling you how she might enjoy it. Did you leave the desk? I'm trying to imagine you with a cup in both hands and no figures available to rescue you. It's an attractive picture, though I suspect you were less pleased with it. Where did you sit?

What was it? I have been very patient with the contents of that coat, and patience sits badly on me. Tell me what she unfolded before you tell me whether it was sensible. You've already given her a chair; I'd like her to have a whole sentence in it. And yes, you may give me that look. I find it alarmingly becoming, which is interfering with my attempt to be severe.

I can hear you arranging them in a neat row between the chairs. I might ask about materials too; I own a coat that should never meet varnish. But she asked you to come, and I haven't heard your answer yet. Was nine impossible because of opening, or did you dislike the thought of arriving somewhere neither of you knew what to do? You needn't accept my second suggestion simply because I delivered it beautifully.

Three minutes? I'd have required four and a persuasive demonstration with the wrong screwdriver. I'm laughing at the offer, not at you wanting an afternoon with her. You might have enjoyed that. But she'd chosen a room outside your shop, and you moved the whole visit back inside. Did you ask why she wanted you at the first class? I wonder whether she was asking for help at all. Though she could have made that clearer too.

Oh. I know that minute. I become excessively charming to the nearest person and then discover I've introduced myself to a cupboard. You needn't look so delighted by the possibility. I'd have wanted you beside me too. But you were allowed to dislike the course, or be busy, or prefer your Saturday. What did you actually say once she explained? I'm hoping you answered her before volunteering to carry the stool. You do seem susceptible to an object with an immediate problem.

There. Slower. You have my arm and a quite unreasonable amount of my attention; use them. Why that chair? If it could already support a breakfast, I suppose the class wasn't urgently required for its welfare. Did you want to change it, or simply want something to put in front of yourself? I shall try to hear the answer before admiring your motives. Though carrying furniture at ten to nine does suggest a formidable commitment to avoiding empty hands.

An application with four legs. Difficult to mislay, I'll grant you. But 'in case there was time' is a curious way to ask for a morning you actually wanted. Your sister had paid for someone to teach her; I wouldn't have wanted her spending it negotiating your admission. Did you ask the teacher yourself? And were you prepared to carry the chair home again? I like you wanting a different breakfast view. I like it considerably less if she had to arrange it.

Six? I withdraw my suspicion that you intended merely to occupy a spare corner. I don't withdraw the question about your sister. She'd asked for company once and then meant to go alone. Did you tell her you wanted the chair for yourself, or did she discover she had acquired a companion for the whole course? I can see why you'd want to stay. I'd still want to know whether we were choosing the same table or simply attending the same room.

Because she was enjoying herself without you? I would have hated missing the joke, especially after escorting the stool through its difficult debut. But I'd have disliked someone crossing the room to collect my laughter too. You may keep this arm; I'm choosing to be beside you. What did you do with the urge to go over? I'm more interested in that than in a handsome explanation of it. There was still a brown chair in front of you.

What answer? And who was there to give it? I've spent several yards preparing to be indignant, which is a terrible waste of a good river if nobody actually refused you. Five Saturdays is a proper request, though. I'd want an answer before taking the paint off anything else. You may keep walking at this speed; I can be impatient without dragging you. Tell me where you put the dates, and what you said.

The plan sounds useful. I refuse to hiss at a sheet of paper merely because you hid behind it. But you made me expect an answer, and now I'm standing outside a conversation that hadn't happened. Who needed to see it? Someone would have to open, or answer a question, or find whatever you kept in a drawer. Tell me the practical difficulty. I can admire your face and still object to how you're telling this.

Good question from Ada. I'd have wanted to know whether your lovely brown chair was about to cost me my Friday evening. And two jobs is wonderfully less alarming than a whole page. What did she say at that date? Don't skip straight to what you think it meant. I'm enjoying the discovery that someone can agree with you and still find you difficult. It makes my prospects beside this river rather encouraging.

I was going to congratulate Ada on securing lunch. But yes, I'm pleased you went. The chair can have gone badly without cancelling that. What happened to it? A scratch, a broken piece, or merely something that no longer resembled the pale patch you'd been admiring? I won't call it beautiful damage before I've heard. I own several garments improved by nobody's mistakes, despite what the people holding the scissors assured me.

What did you say? I should have been furious with him for asking a sensible question while I was hoping for a rescue. But you wanted that pale patch before you damaged anything. Was it still what you wanted once he put a choice in front of you? I am prepared to dislike your chosen finish, by the way. You have my arm, not a fraudulent guarantee of excellent taste.

I'd have looked at the samples before stripping anything. You may find that irritating; I haven't promised to become more agreeable as we walk. Still, you went there to change a chair you disliked, and now you'd seen what was underneath. Which colour made you reach for it? Please don't say the one that would best conceal the gouge. I want to know what caught your eye before you began organising a defence.

Almost black? I'd choose the yellow. There, our first serious furniture quarrel, and neither of us has a chair to withdraw to. But I haven't seen your kitchen light, or that particular blue. Did you move your thumb? I'd be annoyed if I came over with my coffee and received a damage report while the interesting thing was being smuggled beneath a finger. She was allowed to dislike it too. Did you ask whether she did?

And after tea? I am resisting the temptation to claim your sister for a yellow faction. She has seen the room; I've merely developed an opinion at a distance, an accomplishment at which I excel. Tell me which you kept looking at when you sat down. I should like to see it there myself sometime, but you needn't choose a colour that makes me flattering at breakfast. I can manage admiration above the table.

An omelette with chives, if you like them. And room at the stove for me to make it. There: a desire with ingredients, delivered before I could dress it as a joke. You can make the coffee and look devastatingly sceptical. I should like to do something in your kitchen besides sit on a chair and deliver opinions about its colour. Though nine is a formidable hour at which to discover whether my charm survives chopping.

Both. But yes, I'd eat yours. I was picturing us beside the stove, rather than me installed at the table while you disappear behind a cupboard door. I don't know your kitchen yet. At other people's breakfasts I tend to arrive early and start washing whatever is in the sink. It looks marvellously considerate. It also means nobody can leave me sitting alone with the sugar. I shouldn't have appointed you to coffee duty. You may dismiss me from the pan.

Yes. I knew where everything was, and I could go and fetch something if I didn't know what to say. You couldn't see me arguing with the mustard jar. I liked feeding you; please leave me that without turning the whole supper into evidence. But I would have preferred you asking for potatoes to you being faultlessly polite about something you hated. So I'll risk the corresponding disgrace. I like the middle of an omelette still soft. Is that how you make yours?

Yes. Though you have just confiscated a perfectly respectable paper bag I hadn't yet bought. Nine, no pastries, no attempt to locate your washing-up liquid. I reserve the right to ask where the spoons are. And if the eggs become scrambled, I shall eat scrambled eggs; I wasn't setting you an examination. May I ask one thing about the chair before Sunday? When I come in, will you want me to notice the repair, or wait until you show me?

Yes. I'll sit in it before you produce the history of the second coat. But where will you be? You've described my chair, my arrival time and the permitted distance from your elbow; I still can't picture you eating. I should like your face across the table, rather than your back at the stove. An excellent back, certainly, but a poor partner in an argument. Do you normally sit opposite the blue chair?

A minute is survivable. I retract the demand for continuous eye contact; it sounds exhausting even with you. But I'd like to try the blue chair and then let you have your usual place. I rather want to see the window, reflection included. You can watch me discover that morning light has no respect for theatrical preparation. Would that disappoint you? I said I'd sit in it, not that I'd spend the entire breakfast appreciating your handiwork.

You cleared it before supper? I like knowing that. I shall resist commissioning a plaque. But don't tell me how small I'm obliged to find it before I've had a moment to be pleased. You wanted me there before I asked to see the chair. That changes how I'm imagining Sunday. I won't arrive to reward the repair. I'll arrive because you asked. And now, naturally, I'm curious about the books. Were they interesting, or merely heavy enough to discourage visitors?

I haven't asked to borrow it. Although you have made the furniture manual face formidable competition. I'd like to hear the printed sentence before I see your notes. Otherwise I'll spend the whole passage trying to decide which version of you to impress. Read it to me after breakfast, if you want. I'll keep my own opinion until you've finished. That is a rather more ambitious promise than sitting down, so please appreciate the scale of the offer.

Then I shan't demand a defence with the coffee. But after I've given my opinion, may I ask why you liked it? I don't want to sit opposite you disliking a sentence while secretly wondering whether I've insulted half your life. You can say you don't want to answer. I should rather hear that than watch you explain the author's furniture until I've forgotten my question. Although I admit your furniture has been unusually persuasive tonight.

I shall interrupt the sideboard ruthlessly. But you're already teaching me how to approach this page, and I haven't even seen its number. Would you rather I forgot everything you've said about it? I can't promise that. I can promise to tell you which words annoy me, instead of announcing what sort of woman would defend them. You may still find me unfair. Being allowed to disagree doesn't make me miraculously good at it.

You shut it because of your own note? Now I want to see the margin first, which is thoroughly inconvenient after that magnificent promise. I'll keep it. But may I ask what the note said tonight, or does that spoil Sunday? I'm not asking you to produce a better opinion on this pavement. I'm wondering what you wrote that could stop you reading a sentence you were prepared to argue about for years.

Six words. I refuse to let you economise on the interesting part. And asking why doesn't necessarily cancel her choice; I should want to know what she was choosing between. But listen to me, already taking a position on a book I haven't read. Sunday, you may point that out with devastating restraint. Tonight I'd like to know who heard your old argument. Was it your sister, or someone you particularly wanted to convince?

Then leave the page alone until you want it. We've reached the steps, and I have a much less scholarly request. May I walk you home? To the door, no campaign for a glimpse of the kitchen. I should like another street with your arm in mine. You may consider that a disgracefully slight reason for taking the longer way, but I have exhausted my respectable interest in municipal paving.

Here, then. But I wasn't asking for a certificate of supper's success. I wanted the walk. I can be disappointed without requiring you to repair it; do allow me that small sophistication. And 'probably impeccably' is a shocking assessment of my doorstep manners. I'll stay a minute. Shall we let go of each other's arms so I can look at you properly, or would that make this farewell intolerably ceremonial?

Yes, please. And you may retire the speech; it had a very weak second act. I'm glad you asked for something you wanted here. It makes this a place we chose, rather than where my invitation ran out. I won't pretend I've forgotten the extra street. But I should like to remember your face when you asked me that, so give me a moment before you come closer.

You could have had both. Though I might have stood holding the spoon rather longer than the potatoes deserved. Thank you for telling me now. I was trying so hard to give you an ordinary supper that I missed something I would have liked very much. No, don't come back and correct the evening. This one was lovely. Sunday, if I become terribly attentive to your crockery, you may ask me to look up.

Nine precisely, empty hands, and there: I've sat in the blue chair before offering a single expert opinion. It's comfortable. I'm moving to the window now, as threatened. You may have your usual place. And yes, I stayed by the steps until you turned. I nearly waved with both hands; dignity intervened just in time. Before you put the eggs in, will you sit with me for a moment? I'd like to arrive before breakfast does.

A man carrying a very large plant on the bus. Every time we turned a corner, he apologised to the leaves. I was fond of him by the third stop. And I walked past the bakery without going in, which deserves no medal but did leave me wondering what to do with my hands. Here they are, behaving beautifully on the table. Take your minute. I'd rather hear you laugh at the plant than watch you count seconds for my benefit.

Then leave it there. Though assigning yourself the uglier half is a disgraceful abuse of the serving privileges. Let me see both before you decide which I want. I rather like that folded corner. And here's something I hadn't intended to say: I changed my earrings twice before leaving. The first pair looked as though I expected an occasion; the second looked as though I'd carefully decided not to. These won because I was going to miss the bus.

Something I wanted. I wanted you to open the door and be visibly pleased before you noticed whether I'd brought anything. Absurdly precise, I know. The large earrings were supposed to make that easier, which is a terrible burden to put on jewellery. You did look pleased. I noticed. Now I'm choosing this plate, and I'm eating before we turn my earlobes into a committee. Oh. You managed the middle. That's exactly what I meant by soft.

Nowhere I have to be. I had imagined leaving after the book, though; I didn't want to be the guest you discover is still there at lunchtime. I would like to stay longer. May I decide how much longer after we've eaten? That's less sweeping than matching your entire free morning, but considerably more sincere. And please keep eating. I can see your fork waiting for an answer it isn't qualified to judge.

Yes to coffee. And when we've finished eating, I'd like to hear the page. You needn't clear everything first; I can read beside a disgraceful plate. Although I want to amend one part of our arrangement: don't cover your notes with your hand. A loose sheet would do. Otherwise I'll spend the whole time watching your fingers and wondering whether you're uncomfortable. You have very distracting hands, but that isn't the only difficulty.

Not to answer him. That's the only choice I'd confidently give her. She might be staying, or she might have missed her lift and be furious upstairs. The bag interests me: she carries it back, but doesn't unpack it. Of course, perhaps the next sentence ruins my magnificent detection. On these three alone, I can't tell you why she stays. Now may I ask my personal question? Which words did you give your sister when she asked for evidence?

Please do. I've delivered my opinion with entirely sufficient confidence. And withdraw the missed lift from the evidence; I invented it to show what I didn't know, then rather enjoyed making it plausible. Your window is actually on the page. I want to see what you put beside it. Also, I've finished breakfast, and here is my decision: another coffee and the next page, if you'll read it. I'm staying because I want to hear what happens.

Keep it, yes. But could we copy it onto the loose sheet and turn the page? Your younger self has had a splendidly commanding entrance; I'd like the novelist to get another word in. I want to know whether he calls again before I decide what his first call demands. And I still want the coffee. I am capable of disagreeing with you while holding a cup, despite the obvious theatrical risks.

Have the moment. But I don't think wanting an explanation makes you a magistrate. I want one too; otherwise I wouldn't have stayed for another page. You can be interested in why she doesn't answer without requiring her to answer him. Those are different appetites. There, I've managed a disagreement without spilling anything. May I write that distinction underneath your question? In pencil. Your book has quite enough permanent confidence in it already.

A receipt! How unkind to my magnificent silent rebellion. Though she still doesn't speak, and putting it on the sill isn't handing it to him. I am writing 'understanding her / answering him' here. There. But I want to change my earlier question. Not why did you defend her. What did you like about reading her? You said those weren't the same thing. I'd rather hear about a pleasure than conduct another hearing into your errors.

Then don't check. Although you've made revising sound so attractive that I may become insufferably wrong on purpose. May I read the next paragraph to you instead? I'd like to watch you hear it, for once. Move the book halfway across; I promise not to improve the woman's conduct with dramatic pauses. And keep the sheet where we can both reach it. I want somewhere to put a question that doesn't immediately become a question about you.

Here? 'At the foot of the stairs she stopped to straighten the little rug, although she could already hear him opening the cupboard. When she reached the kitchen, he was standing with his back to the door.' There, a whole paragraph, and you haven't interrupted. I nearly congratulated you; what an appalling hostess I should make in your own kitchen. I want to know about that rug. Do you think she's delaying, or does she simply dislike tripping?

Yes, read it. And fair objection about the certificate; I caught myself issuing it and then announced how admirably I'd caught myself. A tiresome little ceremony. Here, the book is yours. Though 'briskly' can smuggle in an opinion too. You may have her tidying efficiently before I've finished admiring the furniture. I want to hear what changes. And I shall accept 'quite beautifully' without demanding that it acquit me of anything.

I liked your annoyed rug. Mine was threatening to become a symbol; yours has a curled corner and bad timing. Can we leave both on the sheet? 'Delay?' and 'damned rug?' You may supply the more respectable adjective. Then I want the kitchen. He's opened a cupboard and turned his back; I am disgracefully curious about what he takes out. Would you rather read on, or shall I? No audition this time. Choose whose voice you'd like.

Of course. Put the sheet here to keep our place. But I reserve the right to miss the kitchen while we visit the inscription. You have made me interested in an entirely different sort of cupboard. And yes, I supplied the corner; strike it from my account. If she wrote something affectionate, you needn't translate it into an objection before showing me. Though you needn't show me at all. I'll look at my coffee until you decide.

Why did you stop reading with her? There, no embroidered introduction. But tell me what happened, if you can, before telling me what sort of woman it makes you. Did she close the book? Did you take it? I can imagine you arguing over a sentence; I have enjoyed the privilege myself. I can't yet see how the book travelled from her hands to yours. And I don't want to cast your sister from one line of affectionate handwriting.

She asked where to begin. That rather complicates the portrait of a woman refusing to read another word. But reading ahead isn't a hanging offence; I would have been tempted, and considerably less efficient at hiding it. Did you want the book to yourself, or did you want her to reach the paragraph that proved you right? Those would feel different to me. I like arguing with you. I would be cross if you started choosing which sentences I was allowed to hear.

The difference survives. I meant what would make me cross, but I let it sound like a charge against this morning. Withdrawn. The attractive part may remain on the record, preferably in your handwriting. And here is my less convenient correction: I agreed to this pause because I wanted your answer. You haven't stolen the page from me. I still want to read it, though. Is there something else about that afternoon you want to say before I put my finger beneath the next line?

Then listen. 'He took down a cup and set it beside his own. She remained in the doorway. Without turning, he asked whether there was enough milk for two.' There. He has survived my performance without a sinister accent, which shows extraordinary restraint. I thought the second cup was a welcome until I reached the milk. Now I can't decide whether he's offering her something or giving her another thing to manage. Don't tell me what happens yet. What do you hear him asking?

'She came in and turned the second cup upside down. There was a brown crescent underneath the handle. He reached for the cloth, but she took the cup to the sink herself.' Well, she has entered. I want to read to the bottom of the page before we make that washing-up settle their entire household. You moved towards the pencil at the crescent, though. What have I nearly rushed past?

A devastating review of my face. Yes, a minute. Write 'he reaches', because I did hurry past it. But wanting something for her hands interests me more than whether he washes properly. I've dried perfectly dry glasses at parties to avoid joining a conversation. It was wonderfully industrious cowardice. That isn't her explanation; it's why yours caught me. Have you ever taken over a small job because accepting the offered help would mean standing there with nothing to do?

I won't write it down. You can tell me something without acquiring another margin. I do wonder how your helpful colleague felt, watching you check the sum; but that needn't cancel why you stayed. Did you ever stay after the figures were put away? You needn't answer before we finish this page. I'm asking because I want to know, and also because I've just realised I'm quite capable of using a book to avoid saying that plainly.

I am. 'She held the cup under the tap until the mark came away. When she turned, he had moved his chair to leave room beside the stove. She sat down with the wet cup between her palms. Neither of them mentioned the bag upstairs.' That's the bottom. I like him moving the chair. It doesn't tell me what she'll do tomorrow, but I like it. Now I'd rather hear about the evening you stayed than turn over. Will you tell me?

There. The sheet is in, the book is shut, and I have placed it beyond my elbow. A substantial sacrifice; I was becoming fond of that kitchen. What did you almost say? Give me the untidy version, if there is one. You can correct it afterwards. I want to hear what you wanted while the crumbs were still in your skirt, before 'good for business' arrived in its sensible shoes.

I won't. But I do want to object to the imaginary listener who found that unbearable. I would have liked hearing you pleased with yourself. Possibly enough to become a nuisance about it. Did the person on the step accept 'good for business', or did they ask again? You have told me what you stopped yourself saying. I still don't know whether they left you room to change your answer.

Charmed, probably. Made a joke about your magnificent lettering, then mistaken your laugh for permission to ask again. I should like to claim I'd have sat nobly chewing bread, but I dislike being shut out and become entertaining at inconvenient moments. I might also have wanted you to look at me instead of the sign. That is a less flattering motive than concern for your neglected answer. Would the joke have helped, or made you more determined to discuss rain?

I liked that V before you told me any of this. I still think it crowds the next letter; affection has not improved its manners. And I like hearing that you insisted on it. I am tempted to ask what changed, which would drag us straight back to the regrets. Instead, may I tell you something I liked this morning? You putting the book halfway between us. I could reach it without asking you to pass it. Such a small, indecently effective invitation.