Relieved that nothing was wrong, I got out of my Volvo, locked it and looked towards Gaynor’s vehicle. She remained sitting and beckoned me to her w...th a crooked forefinger. I rushed the few steps through the drizzle, flung open the door and flopped into the passenger seat. “Ugh, not a nice day at all,” I said and leaned for a kiss. I stopped halfway. Gaynor was staring straight ahead, looking through the rivulets on her windscreen. “What’s wrong?” I asked. Slowly, as if a film was running. Feelings she was ashamed to have right now because they were selfish. She passed a wet napkin around her face and neck, hoping the gentle pats would help her tamp down what tried to surface a few minutes ago. Clodagh’s demeanor had announced the good news well before she’d said the words: her father was being discharged in the morning. He’d stay overnight for observation but everything looked good. Heartburn—due to a forbidden quarter pounder and shake—and not a heart attack appeared to be the. More

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