For the best part of a minute he had been straddling the ridge, staring at a hole in one of the iron sheets, and doing nothing. Manon was waiting. His inactivity was so sudden and so obvious that it touched her curiosity.
“Tired?”
He leant forward and knocked off the head of a screw with the chisel and hammer.
“No. Thinking.”
“You looked like murder.”
“I dare say I did.”
He loosened another sheet and slid it down to her, but she let it lie untouched, and stood looking gravely up at him.
“You were thinking about Bibi?”
He moved along the roof to attack the next sheet.
“Well, perhaps I was.”