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is weird about cherubs.”
    “And there’s a leak above the other bed in Luke’s room.”
    She made a face. “I’ll tell Nerea. You know, you could have slept on the sofa.”
    “It was too short,” I explained.
    She grinned. “Any excuse…”
    I was beginning to feel like that myself.
    Luke came back and I told him Maria was off. We walked back up the path to Ted, sitting there looking shabby and immovable.
    “You ever think about getting a new car?” Luke asked into the dusky silence, and I looked up, appalled.
    “Would you ask a mother to trade in one of her children?”
    Luke grinned. “Probably. Why do you love this car so much?”
    I ran my hand over Ted’s dented fender as Norma jumped in and made herself comfy on my seat. “We have history. He comes through for me.” I shrugged. “He’s family.”
    Luke said nothing, but got into the dark car beside me and was quiet all the way home.
    It started raining halfway there, and by the time we pulled up on the harbour platt, Norma Jean was cowering in the back of the car, her ears flattened defensively against the thunder.
    “There goes your last walk of the day,” I told her, and she didn’t look too distraught at the prospect. Norma’s a girlie girl; she hates getting her fur wet, walks around every puddle. And I’m grateful, because when she’s wet she stinks.
    I looked out over the harbour. There was a bit of blue and white police tape fluttering over the pub cave, but no other reminder that someone had died there last night.
    “Do you have a key?” I asked Luke, picking up my bag and his, and he nodded. “You’re faster. Take Norma and unlock. I’ll follow you.”
    He dashed off through the rain, over the cobbled streets, and I got out and locked Ted up, said goodnight, then started running.
    I’m not a good runner. My legs are long, but they’re very lazy, and besides, I wasn’t wearing the right bra. Plus I’m damn clumsy, so it came as no surprise when my feet found the one loose cobblestone and sent me sprawling on the wet ground.
    Swearing, I grabbed the two bags and pulled myself upright. My clothes were totally soaked even after a minute of rain, and my hand was stinging. Great.
    Soaked, I trudged back to the cottage and squelched upstairs.
    Luke looked at me and bit his lip.
    “If you laugh at me I’ll castrate you,” I said, dumping his bag on the sofa.
    “Would I laugh at you?”
    I sent him a heavy look.
    “Okay, all right. Am I safe if I smile?”
    “Only if you make me some coffee and see if there are any muffins left.”
    Luke obliged, while I went downstairs and stripped off my wet clothes, replacing them with pyjamas. I wasn’t going anywhere tonight. I came back up, scraping my damp hair back into a clip, and took my coffee from Luke. Rich, strong and black. Sort of like Macbeth.
    “Are you sure coffee isn’t bad for you?” Luke asked anxiously, and I groaned. “What?”
    “See, this is why I didn’t tell you.”
    “What? I’m just concerned.”
    “Exactly.”
    He looked offended. “So you’d rather I didn’t give a damn?”
    I looked down at the coffee. Suddenly I didn’t want it so much any more.
    “I think I’ll go and read a bit,” I said, getting up, but Luke pushed me back down.
    “You would, wouldn’t you?”
    I closed my eyes and carefully set down my coffee before I spilled it all down my jammies.
    “Luke, do we have to have this conversation again?”
    He stood there, hands on hips, smelling of salt and the sea, looking mad, and I was glad I wasn’t holding the coffee or I might have got some very painful injuries by spilling it all over my lap.
    Although that might have got my mind off Luke being in the same place…
    “Not if you’re just going to say the same thing again.”
    “Well.” I folded my arms obstinately (I'm very good at this). “I am.”
    Luke looked furious. “You,” he said, “are a bloody stupid cow.”
    Is this supposed to be news to me?
    I stood up and walked