Chapter 14
The voyage across the Mediterranean was a pleasant one, mostly because at every opportunity he could find or make, Tommy touched me. Nothing overt, of course. A hand on my shoulder. A clap on my arm. That progressed to straightening my tie, brushing a crease out of my sleeve, adjusting my collar. I grew used to having him close to me and regretted when we parted for the evening to go to our separate cabins. And when I grew to miss him because he wasn’t close to me, I found him and made sure I was close to him.
Once the large vessel reached the Atlantic, however, we both discovered that I was not a good sailor, something I should have remembered from the time Brother and I sailed to Africa—I was startled to realise I’d lived in the Dark Continent for more than twice longer than
