Chapter 3

Lix looked at herself, sans makeup, in the bathroom mirror. An old woman who'd just learnt her daughter was dead looked back at her, which is about right, she thought. Randall looked old too. Gone was his light brown hair and ready smile. Lix screwed up her eyes to prevent the fall of tears and passed through the flat, turning off lights and double locking the front door. As she entered her bedroom she saw Randall turned on his side, eyes shut, facing the bedside light. Relieved, she went to the other side of the bed. She undressed quickly, dispensing with the careful folding his clothes required. Her trousers, blouse and socks were tossed into the far corner. Jewellery was unceremoniously dumped onto the dresser. She looked over her shoulder to check Randall was still turned away, before unhooking her bra. In a chest of drawers she found a long-forgotten silk chemise. Lix normally preferred to sleep naked, which Randall knows, she thought with annoyance. At least this was a halfway house between total undress and full length pajamas. It's not like we'll be touching, she told herself, as she slipped into bed.

'Randall? Could you get the light?' A bare arm reached out from under the sheets and switched off the lamp. Now darkness joined the silence. So, he's awake, Lix thought, though this knowledge brought her no closer to knowing what to do. All of a sudden, Randall turned onto his back and reached his hand out to grip hers. 'Thank you.' His voice was low and cracked.

'There's no need to thank me. I'm amazed you can bear to be here.'

'What do you mean..? Lix..?'

She felt her throat constrict and took a few haltering breaths. 'I'd understand if you hated me Randall. I, ah,' her voice broke, 'I gave her away, to the Malfrands. She might, she might still...' all was lost in a series of racking sobs.

Randall gripped her hand tighter. He was momentarily at a loss. The sound of her sobs filled the room. This is what she's been keeping from me. Was it this that Cissy had overheard all those hours ago? He was whispering, begging her not to do this to herself but she couldn't, or wouldn't, hear. Across the bed he reached out to her, felt for her shoulder and turned her to face him. He put his arms around her, pulling her nearer. Her head nestled under his chin and the sound of her sobs reverberated into his chest. Tears coursed down Randall's face as he attempted to shush her. After what felt like an eternity Lix's breathing regulated itself and he felt her use his vest to dry her eyes. Randall's face was wet with tears. He was still holding her close to him. He knew he should let her go but didn't think he could move. Nor did he yet trust his voice to speak. More time passed. Lix seemed reluctant to move so there they both lay, arms wrapped round one another.

'I, uh, I saw the picture on your dresser,' he said eventually, his voice sounding hoarse. She lifted her head and Randall felt, rather than saw, her interest. She smiled wanly, 'I found it a few weeks ago. I was looking for, ah, Sofia's birth certificate and there was a box of old photographs, things from Spain. You took it,'

'I know,'

'I liked it... and there were so many of me where I looked awful-'

'You never looked awful,'

'-that I thought I'd get it framed.'

'Don't blame yourself for what happened,' Lix sighed heavily. Randall kissed her forehead. 'I don't hate you. I never hated you.' She nodded. Slowly, they disentangled themselves but remained side by side. She turned over and he pulled close to her, his arms wrapped around her waist. He kissed the nape of her neck. She stroked his bare arms. 'I'm pleased you're here Randall,' Lix said quietly,

'There's nowhere I'd rather be,' he answered.