I look through the doorway of the guest room.
The room is soft and warm, with a wide bed, pale curtains, an armchair by the window and another door I assume leads to the en-suite. A lamp glows on the bedside table.
It is lovely.
It feels like too much. This is already the largest bedroom I have ever seen outside the dorm rooms at Exton.
"It should have everything you need," he says. "Bathroom through there. It always has spare toothbrushes and various other things. Mum probably put half the house in the drawer, but if you need anything..."
He stops.
I look at him, and now that I've noticed it and thought about it, I cannot help noticing it. The careful restraint he shows every time he is near me.
Because he is standing on the threshold, one hand still resting lightly against the do
