“He took his father’s old coat from its peg and put it on. It still smelt of Trees, that musty smell of dust and farmyard and his own unique scent. He grabbed his cigarettes and lighter from the kitchen table, then wandered out onto the terrace. To his surprise he saw the small figure of his mother sitting huddled in the dark on one of the damp garden chairs, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of hot milk. Her fingers shone white in the phosphorescent light of the moon. When he appeared in ...the doorway she looked up, but she was not surprised to see him. How often they had met on that terrace in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, tormented by dreams.‘Are you all right?’ she asked as he sat down on the chair beside her.He leaned forward and sighed heavily. ‘Tell me about Rita,’ he asked, placing the cigarette between his lips and flicking his lighter.‘I thought it would make you feel guilty.’‘I appreciate that,’ he replied. ‘But I want to know. I still care about her, Ma.’ He exhaled like a gentle dragon.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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