They didn"t speak on the drive back to Kate"s flat. She seemed withdrawn inside herself, deflated, tired. McEwan couldn"t face disturbing her, thinking it was better to give her time. She stared blindly out the window as the cars and lights passed them by.
He no longer knew what to feel. He was joyful to have found her again. He was amazed that he felt anything at all having forgotten the rush of true feeling; he had removed himself from it. The last time he felt any passion he felt it had destroyed him; rational acts no longer familiar, as jealousy and recrimination had consumed him. It had become better to play it safe and avoid it in the first place. But he also felt a deep fear of the unknown quantity that lurked inside his love. He loved her! Still, after all this time. So long he ha
