‘ No. ’
‘I’m sick,’ he whimpered.
Startlingly, she laughed. She came to him and pulled him to his feet. She drew him to the bathroom and reached in and switched on the light. She pushed him inside, against the washbasin, and rapped the mirror with her knuckles. ‘Who’s sick?’
He looked at the firm-fleshed, well-boned face that stared out at him, at its glossy hair and clear eyes. He turned to Janie, genuinely astonished. ‘I haven’t looked this good in years! Not since I was in the… Janie, was I in the Army?’
‘Were you?’
He looked into the mirror again. ‘Sure don’t look sick,’ he said, as if to himself. He touched his cheek. ‘Who keeps telling me I’m sick?’
He heard Janie’s footsteps receding. He switched off the light and joined her. ‘I’d like to break that Thompson’s back,’ he said. ‘Throw him right through a—‘
‘What is it?’
‘Funny thing,’ he said, ‘was going to say, through a brick wall. I was thinking it so hard I could see it, me throwing him.’
‘Perhaps you did.’