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my tone neutral, I say earnestly, “So what’s the gîte thing about? For you?”
    Tom shakes his head. “I don’t kn…” he protests.
    â€œNo, go on,” I interrupt. “In a nutshell, why do you want to do this?”
    â€œMaybe we should have asked these questions before,” I think.
    Tom shakes his head and pouts. “I don’t know. Life change?”
    I nod. “OK, life change.”
    â€œYeah, changing my life. You know that. We talked about it – around when my dad died.”
    â€œOK, but living here with me, that’s a life change isn’t it?”
    Tom shrugs. “Kind of. But I could be with
you
anywhere. I don’t mean that to sound… What I mean is that the reason I’m
here
is because we’re buying a gîte.
Here
. And if that goes, then the reason goes. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that.”
    â€œSo it
isn’t
about being with me?” I say, wincing at the statement.
    â€œWell, no,” he says. “Why does it have to be about
you?”
    I nod. “So let me get this right.”
    â€œMark…”
Tom whines.
    â€œYour decision to live here or stay in the UK wasn’t about us being together.”
    â€œNot primarily, no,” Tom says.
    â€œSo it’s about… What?” I say.
    Tom shrugs.
    â€œWell, it would have to be about …
you?”
I say.
    Tom shakes his head. “You see,” he says, clicking the TV back on. “I told you. You’re impossible today.”
    â€œEnd of intermission?” I ask.
    â€œEnd of intermission,” Tom replies.
    â€œFuck you too,”
I think. What I actually
say
is, “OK. Enjoy the game show. It looks like a really good one.” It somehow means the same thing.

Sixty-Forty Split
    Jenny hands me a mug of tea and sits opposite at the tiny kitchen table. She’s wearing a huge Arran jumper that makes her look like some clinical over-eater from a TV documentary. I wrinkle my nose and she looks down at herself.
    â€œThe jumper?” she asks.
    I nod. “It makes you look huge!” I laugh.
    â€œI know. Mum made it. Isn’t it the worst? I never wear it outdoors. It’s very warm though, very good for keeping the heating bill down. I’ve
lost
weight actually.”
    I nod. “It shows in your face, but the jumper kind of hides everything else.” I raise my chin towards the sofa where Sarah is sleeping. “A bit early for her isn’t it?”
    Jenny glances over and sighs. “She’s got a cold. She’s been dozing all day. Poor little thing.” She sips her tea. “So come on then,” she says. “Tell aunty Jenny all about it.”
    I roll my eyes. “Actually, I want
your
news,” I say. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you for so long.”
    â€œFive weeks,” she says, running her fingers through her hair. “I saw you the morning I left for England. I
was
away for two weeks, so…”
    I nod. “Yes, I expect that’s it. I just kind of lost the habit of popping upstairs.”
    â€œI’ve been busy too,” she says. “I’ve been out more than usual.”
    â€œBeen having a lot of doctor’s appointments?” I snigger.
    â€œTom
told
you!” she says, flashing the whites of her eyes at me.
    I nod. “I was a bit surprised to be learning the intimate details of your life from Tom,” I say. “But,well, I can hardly complain; if I can’t be bothered to come up two flights of steps … Anyway, tell me.”
    â€œWell …” she says, licking her lips, flicking her hair back and clearly relishing the story. “He’s a doctor, he’s very, very cute, he speaks wonderful English – thank God – he’s good in bed …”
    â€œThank God he’s
good in bed?”
I ask, grinning.
    â€œNo, the English … well, yeah, both. Anyway,