Michael
James rolls the razor over the line of jaw to neck, angling in the mirror to see the result.
“You’ve got it all,” I say. “Bloody nuisance for you having to shave as often as you do.”
He harrumphs, then, “Maybe I should grow a beard.” He looks himself left then right in the mirror. “What do you think?”
“It’s not my opinion you should ask.” I c**k my head towards the door.
“Mmmm.” He runs a finger from chin to ear, sucking in his cheeks. “How is she?”
“Pretty hyper. I’m beginning to wish I’d not told her about the address; checked it out first myself. I could easily have found a different Christmas gift if I tried… If we get there and don’t find anything. If her mother’s moved or died…”
“Worst scenario…” says James, “No-one’s heard of her at all. No-one knows anything. Anythin
