Estelle is asleep. I am standing by the window, looking down at a moonlit sea.
I started university, but dropped out after a term. I couldn’t concentrate, the studies had no point, no meaning or sense, so I took the money Mother had left, and we moved in with Mrs Kertész. I do the heavy work around the house, and Estelle does the laundry and cleaning. We live in the attic bedroom with a view of the town, the harbour and the beach. Mrs Kertész treats us as her children and we treat her as a mother.
The best families are the ones that choose themselves. Nature is too cruel, too anxious to consume what it creates. It sows bad seed and it sows good; the bad protects itself, the good is exposed and hunted. Estelle turned in her sleep. I got in beside her and threaded my arm around her. A splinter of moonlight caught her face; she opened her eyes and smiled at me. ‘Go back to sleep,’ I said.
‘You want me to?’ she said.
‘No.’
‘What then?’
‘You know...’
‘Yes?’
‘These things you keep,’ I whispered, ‘you better throw them away, turn your back on your soulless days...’
‘What?’ she said.
‘Nothing.’
I stared at the ceiling and listened to her breathing. ‘I want no wrinkle on your brow, no how...’
‘Now what are you on about?’
‘...because the sorrow of the past is all done, and the real happiness is just begun.’
‘Duncan?’
‘It’s a song my Dad used to sing...’I said.
‘Oh.’
‘And I mean it.’
She looked at me, said, ‘And I mean this,’ and then as the moon was covered by cloud, she kissed my lips, ran her fingers through my hair and folded my body in the dark.