Lyn walks to the bottom of Burgage Square and rings Pete.
‘Hi … it’s me, I know you can’t answer, I just wanted to say … say … ‘
She realises she should have thought.
Lame! Lame! Lame!
‘I mean I … ‘
She can’t talk about what they did, can’t say on the phone that she can still feel him, telling him she has come out to get mulberries would be just too weird.
‘I am going to make you …’
She wonders how sweet the mulberries will be, thick, cloying, sharp? Like juice, wine? Here we go round …
‘I’m looking over wondering where you are.’
She says as his ansaphone beeps
‘Can’t wait to see you.’
Wonders if her voice has been relayed through the Emley Mast.
‘Fuck off, fall down.’