“You have, only you don’t remember. In church I used to watch you when we were both quite little, but you would hardly ever look at me, you were too grand. And afterwards.”
“But then I must have seen you. Why did you look at me?”
“There was nothing else to do.”
“No, I suppose not. Where did you sit?”
“To the left of your pew, just in front of the font. Don’t you remember?”
“And what was the church like? I never really noticed it. Oh, it hurts to try and remember. I can only see bits of it, the spaces are so hard to fill up.”
“Don’t. I hate that church too, only through the window on the right you could see an apple tree.”
“Yes, I know. And there were birds.”
“And apples in the autumn. Do you remember?”
“Yes. Apples.” And he laughed.