What She Asked For

I did not sleep, and at half past seven on Sunday morning I was sitting on the wall at the top of the slipway with a mug of Bea’s coffee and the tide a long way out and the whole marsh flat calm and steaming very slightly in the first proper sun of the week.

Dev came out at eight in yesterday’s shirt with two slices of toast.

“Morning,” he said. “Terrible night. Wonderful day. Arun got the slideshow working at one o’clock and everybody had gone.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He sat down on the wall. “My wife is asleep with one shoe on.”

We ate toast.

“You’re going to ask me something,” I said.

“No,” said Dev. “I’ve got a thing I’m going to say and then I’m going to go back to bed, because I’m a coward and I’ve got four hours before the brunch.”

“Go on, then.”…