So Many Ways to Begin

Thanks, she said. Anyway, how about you soldier, you okay? She looked up at him, reaching out and pulling him a little closer by the hem of his shirt, lifting the thick cotton and gazing at the small dotted scar, still raised and raw. How does it feel? she asked.

It's okay, he told her. It doesn't hurt really. Just sometimes when I stand up too quickly, or bend over. She pulled him closer, and kissed the faintly bruised skin around the scar.

I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on you, aren't I? she said, trying to re-thread the needle. Do a bit more looking after you. He sat on the arm of the sofa, not sure what she meant. I'm going to have to pay more attention, she said, glancing up at him; wouldn't you say?

They could hear, upstairs, his mother talking softly as Kate's feet pounded across the floor and she acted out Sindy's catwalking at the top of her voice. He glanced upwards.

David? she said, lowering the needle and thread into her lap. David, what happened? I mean, what really happened? He kept his eyes on the ceiling.

You know what happened, he said, his voice low and steady. She noticed him gripping the edge of the sofa-arm, trying to keep his balance. I've told you what happened, he said. I don't remember all that much about it, he said.

But why would someone do that? she asked. It doesn't make sense. For no reason?

He could have told her then, he thought later, he should have told her then. Things would have been better that way, maybe.

I don't know Eleanor, he said quietly. It was just some drunk. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She held his gaze, winding and unwinding the thread around her finger.

She said, I just want to understand David, I just want to know why it happened. I want to know what it is you're not telling me. She turned away, squinting at the needle, easing the thread through its narrow eye.

He said, what do you mean? He said, there's nothing I'm not telling you. It was just some drunk. It was an accident almost. Don't worry about it now, he said. He leant forward and kissed the hair on the top of her head, and she told him he was in her light. He sat back again, moving his shadow away from her face and her hands, watching as she picked up a length of wool and one of Kate's small neat gloves.

She said, it just doesn't make sense David, and he said, I know, I know.

He went outside to look at the aerial again. It was swinging in the light breeze, angling towards the roof, looking like it would take a tile off in a strong wind. He wondered who he could borrow a ladder from. He wondered if he would ever tell Eleanor what had really happened with Chris, what had almost happened with Anna. He wondered how she would react if he did. He walked to the end of the garden to put the lid back on the dustbin, and went inside to finish the washing up, watching Eleanor's sewing as he put away the last of the plates and the pans.

How's it going now? he asked her. Fine, she said, nearly done. She knotted the last stitch, snapped the loose thread across her hand, and held the coat up for him to see. The two gloves hung down from the cuffs, turning slow circles in the air, and he pictured them swinging back and forth as Kate ran towards him in the park, kicking up leaves, stumbling over divots and molehills, laughing.

There, she said, try that. David tugged at one of the gloves to test it, and it pulled away in his hand, dangling a long strand of red wool with a tail of broken stitches beneath it. He looked at her in anticipation, but she just shrugged, smiling as she pulled at the other glove and it snapped away in turn.

This is definitely not my strong point, David, she said, breaking into a laugh, and he agreed that, no, she was right, it probably wasn't.

45 Job application form, Head Curator, c.1984

He was going through the filing cabinet in his office when he heard someone come into the room and quietly close the door. He'd been looking through the records of old exhibitions, looking for the acquisitions list from a watchmaking display he'd put together in 1978, but when he heard Anna gently coughing and shuffling her feet he slid the drawer shut and turned around. Hello, she said quietly, not quite looking at him. He nodded.

He'd been trying to avoid her since he'd started back at work, spending as much time as possible in his office, being careful whenever he'd needed to venture into the corridors and galleries.

When they had come across each other, in the staff-room, or in a meeting, they'd spoken as briefly and as distantly as possible, avoiding each other's eyes, their voices thick with self-control. Talking to her made him feel uncomfortable in a different way from before; talking to her now made him want to look over his shoulder and see if anyone was there.

Hello, he said, still holding a folder from the filing cabinet. It was clutched against his chest, as if he thought she was going to try and take it from him.

I haven't seen much of you since you came back, she said, stepping forward from the door.

No, he said. No, I suppose not. I've been catching up on some paperwork. It builds up, doesn't it? He tried to smile. He noticed that she'd cut her hair much shorter, pinning it back into a tight knot on the back of her head. He noticed that she kept opening and closing her hands, smoothing them down the sides of her skirt.

How's Eleanor? she said. And Kate? How are they both doing? She smiled, and tilted her head to one side, and he already wanted to tell her to leave.

They're fine, he said. They're both doing fine. She waited for him to say something more, and he realised he should ask how Chris was. He said nothing, and he felt his breath catch at the top of his lungs, felt his arms starting to shiver against his chest. They're fine, he said again.

Anna stepped closer to the desk. I wanted to say sorry, she said, so quietly that for a moment he wasn't quite sure what he'd heard. It wasn't supposed to happen, she said, not like that. He almost smiled, wondering how it had been supposed to happen.

He said, have you heard back from Manchester about those loan requests?

She said, you're doing the right thing you know. There was a knock at the door. He looked at her. She moved closer, until there was only the corner of the desk between them.

He said, they should have got back to us by now. It's been six weeks, hasn't it?

Not telling anyone I mean, she said, resting one hand on the desk. I mean, no one needs to know do they? There was a second knock at the door, and Christine from decorative arts came in, hesitating slightly as she saw David and Anna move a step back from each other.