Cautious, watchful. No sign of anyone. No lights showing.He had to chance it. Time was an enemy.A basement flat with a small garden. It had been his p...ide and joy.He felt inside the short length of earthenware drain pipe thatsheltered the roots of a clematis a yard to the left of the door.Taped to its inside were his keys. House, garage and car. Stillthere. A minor miracle.Inside it was as if he had never been away. Apart from beingtidier. No mail behind the door. All hoovered, dustless and. At least two heads taller than me. I run a hand experimentally down the muscles on his back. He’s built like a rugby player. I shift on the bed and untie his hair. It’s incredibly silky and about as long as mine. I run my hands through the length in wonder. It’s beautiful, shiny and black. I brush the front behind his ear. I scoot down the bed until I am leaning on one elbow and our faces are almost level. My fingers trace his face, the strong line of his jaw. I run them experimentally over his. More

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