“‘Course,” Jude said, giving himself something to do in putting the bread on the toasting plate. Sidelong, he spotted Kieran’s gesture. “Fine,” he answered, a little quick. “Well, weird, you know.” He glanced over into the sitting room at the clock on the mantelpiece, as if it could possibly read ‘seven hours down, just the rest of the month to go’ with only two hands. Still, it was an inconvenience at best - not something to complain about - and nor could he possibly wish the next full moon to come sooner.
(He felt guilty enough at the fleeting thought he caught himself having sometimes, on mornings like this, that he liked having Kieran here. As if it was only tea and toast, as if Kieran coming and going was as common as breakfast with Kingsley. Stupid: the pretence of pleasure couldn’t be extricated from the full moons and the attic and the reason Kieran had to be here, which was the very thing he wished Kieran didn’t have to face.)
“Ask me after the toast, maybe,” Jude said with a rueful smile. If he managed to get the toast down. (Although he didn’t mean it; better they talked about anything else.) “Have you got much to do today?”
(He felt guilty enough at the fleeting thought he caught himself having sometimes, on mornings like this, that he liked having Kieran here. As if it was only tea and toast, as if Kieran coming and going was as common as breakfast with Kingsley. Stupid: the pretence of pleasure couldn’t be extricated from the full moons and the attic and the reason Kieran had to be here, which was the very thing he wished Kieran didn’t have to face.)
“Ask me after the toast, maybe,” Jude said with a rueful smile. If he managed to get the toast down. (Although he didn’t mean it; better they talked about anything else.) “Have you got much to do today?”
