When he was in hospital, he said, he thought about her all the time. ‘All the time,’ he repeated and he looked right at her. This, Carmel realised, was her cue to walk towards him and kiss his mouth, that looked redder now because of the beard. Later, he asked her to bring the rubbish downstairs with her when she left, and she obliged, wondering as she went why she was doing all this for a sexual relationship that had no sex in it, trying to put a shape on a man who was in love with his own disappointment, who nursed it and sought it out. She did not call again. He did not call.
