31
Jack stopped coming so late, and we could at least have dinners together. Very late dinners, eaten quietly after everybody had gone to sleep, except Joe, who gave us privacy while minding his business.
"It's stupid that we have to sneak around like this in our own house," I complained, after Jack firmly closed the kitchen door, to avoid waking everybody up.
"They're your guests, not mine," Jack pointed out.
Fair.
The first thing I did when I got my own house, which should be my impenetrable castle of privacy, was to fill it with people.
"Don't remind me," I said, reheating the soup on the stove.
It was quite chilly in the winter, so warm food felt wonderful.
Jack served himself a bowl of soup and placed it on the table.
They eat rice with everything in Kesteven: with soup, with
