“We have to be going.” That sounds so stern that he immediately breaks off and trudges after her to the door.
I show them as far as the gate. He leads her respectably by the arm, as if they have just paid a friendly family visit to his best friend. And not a single glance, not even a cursory one, at the first-floor windows. As if he never spent all his childhood here! Look round, will you! If only out of sheer curiosity? Maybe the gaping windows that make the place look like a bomb site might arouse some doubts in you about the correctness of your actions?
No, he doesn’t look round…
I call to them when they’ve almost reached the road. Both heads turn in simultaneous haste.
I ask the question in an emphatically cool voice. I don’t want to let them think that they’ve moved me to pity. Bu
