They didn’t make love again for
six months, though they did remain friends.
Keith would pop in after The Lord Grey closed or sometimes just later on in the
evening if things were quiet in the pub. They drew pleasure from each other’s
company. He would talk lightly about his
‘conquests’, pretending not to watch her reaction. She hoarded her love quietly within
herself. She’d been to hell and back
with her dad. She’d learnt the hard way
to store little bits of happiness when she got them. And spending time with Keith made her
happy. As for the sex, it didn’t matter
to her. So she told herself. Anyway, she couldn’t have proper sex because
of what her dad had done to her. So she
told herself. And friendship was pretty
good anyway. And all of these things
were half true. But sometimes she would
smell his midnight odour, the aroma of beer and sweat and cheap aftershave and
she would feel a stirring within her, a small wrenching in her gut and her
heart and she doubted.
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