got up and pushed the door open, his chest hurting because his heart wouldn’t move. The last time had been ten years. ‘Harry?’ ‘There you are. I’m cooking, not very well; I was hoping you’d come round in time to properly supervise. Or at least tell me how in God’s name you’re supposed to cook quinoa.’ Raphael pushed his hands together, because they were shaking. It had only been the afternoon. He folded the blanket over the back of a chair. ‘Not like that. What’s the point of you?’ ‘I’m ornamental.’
