mouth, mocking herself ‘I should have learnt my lesson. I hid in a garden shed and knocked this what looked like a long stick off a peg … and put up my arm to shield myself.’ She mimed it. ‘It was a scythe.’ ‘You poor thing.’ I kissed the wrist again, then once more drew us close, but after a while left her mouth, kissed the eyes, the neck, the throat, along the curve of the dress above the breasts; then found the mouth again. We explored each other’s eyes. There was something still uncertain in hers; yet something melted as well. Suddenly they closed, and her mouth reached towards mine, as if
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