Nick sat on a garden seat halfway up the hill between his cottage and the main house. From his vantage point he watched Del and Tiny reach the gate. She fumbled for a while with the rusty latch. He was irrationally pleased by the delay, as if it might buy him enough time to sprint down the hill after her. He almost did just that. It seemed absurd to let her go after he’d been so desperate to find her.
Then Nick thought of his mother, and of the shame Del’s article had caused her. He imagined her descending once more into paranoia and depression. What if this time she didn’t have the strength to climb back out? His jaw clenched and his teeth began a slow involuntary grind. As a child, when Mum went away to the clinic, it used to happen all the time. He thought he’d outgrown the habit.
The
