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Shona always thinks that everything’s related to sex. It comes of teaching English Literature.
But, looking at the green space in front of her, Ruth thinks she hardly needs geophysics. ‘Nettles,’ she says. ‘Yes,’ says Ted. There is a dense patch of nettles in the very centre of the garden. Nettles thrive on nutrients from human waste and so their existence on a site usually means that people have lived there—or that there’s a dead body buried in the vicinity.
He’s not much of a reader but he tries a few pages of one of Michelle’s books and throws it across the room in disgust. Who writes this rubbish? If he met a man like Christian Grey he’d have him up on a charge before he could say ‘safe word’.
a brief liaison with a Norwegian called Lars,
Not Lars, it was Leif, Erik’s son
The things we fear in secret always happen.
Kierkegaard warped?
