No news? John leaned into the frame of Martha’s room door. No news about Cora? He had just got off work. She could tell by the way his face sparkled under the fluorescent light with bits of dried sweat-salt.

No news, said Martha. But you don’t need to keep checking up on me like this. You haven’t been to bed yet.

Have you?

No.

You going to stay up much longer?

Probably.

Let me teach you how to knit.

Now?

It will be good for you. For your tense hand.

I already know how to make net, it must be pretty similar.

I’ve never seen you do that.

Not much use for it here, is there?

I don’t know, maybe there is. You should teach me.

To net?

Yes. I’ll teach you to knit and you teach me to net.

OK, OK. Come in, John.

He came in, shutting the door after him, and sat next to her on the bed. Martha lifted a hand and ran it down the side of his face, across the salt. You didn’t have to come, she said.

I know, he said.