‘Are you coming over tonight? Amina would be happy.’
It might sound stupid, but I can do this because I know that’s the truth. Amina would like Dylan to be there too, and therewith it’s decided for me.
‘I’ll be there,’ comes the brief answer.
＊
It’s half past eleven by the time Dylan gets here. His eyes have circles under them, he looks exhausted, and you can tell he is tired as hell. We are lying on the sofa, Amina in my lap, half dozed-off, while I watch New Zealand rugby, but my eyes keep closing. As Dylan steps inside the living room, Amina picks up her head and gives me a kiss – for the hundredth time since we have come back from Derby – then she runs to Dylan and throws herself into his arms. She does this with the same enthusiasm and passion as with me just before. There is no d
