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 ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said with another nervous laugh. Then the smile left him.

 ‘How can you not believe me?’ he said.
�... He slowly began to lower his shirttail again.

 There was a rustle in the brush behind us. Ruth appeared, as if she were an angel determined to keep us together.

 Caleb struggled to pull up his trousers and fasten them while stuffing them with his ballooning shirttail.

 ‘Wait,’ Ruth said.

 ‘Have you been hiding there all the time?’ he asked, clutching his. His luggage was resting in the hallway. He must have taken the cross-Atlantic red eye.“Hey Teddy,” he said, barely glancing up from his papers. “Been keeping out of mischief?”An image of Mom lying beneath me with her legs draped over my shoulders flashed before my eyes. “Don’t stop, Teddy! Don’t stop!”“Always, Dad. How was the tennis?”Dad started reeling off some mind-numbing stats about Pete Sampras’ serve when Mom entered from the back yard with an armload of washing. She’d kicked me. More

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