17
The Boy in the CornerThe kitchen smelled warm and airless and the only light came from the small glowing rope across the bright shield of the electric heater which Mrs. Broome had put in the mock fireplace to make it look “like home” for the sweethearts.
The door into the house opened cautiously and Tim put his head in. “Julia?”
“I’m here in the chair.” They were both whispering and he came round the table, feeling his way cautiously.
“Is he quiet now?” she murmured as he bent over the chair.
“I think so. He keeps dropping off, snoring like a donkey-engine and waking himself up again. Then he thinks he’ll go and find a short one for his dry throat! However, forget him. I think he’s about had it tonight. Where are you? Oh my God, my darling, where are you?”
“Here. Come on, there’s
