It was 6 am. Shelagh woke up and found herself alone in their bed. This had been now going on for a fortnight, but not every night. They had made some small steps in the daytime. He had started to help her in the washing up and hoovering, "just to be near you" he had said. It was like an act of repentance. But what there was to repent, that was yet not very clear. Shelagh didn't want to hear him blaming himself, because it seemed to serve in place of something else. In place of understanding himself.

They had even talked of the adoption. A baby they now might never get. The talk had been difficult but necessary. That talk had helped her to see how his eagerness to please her had led to that disastrous interview. Yet she felt that her face now certainly "no contentment wore, it was all tears and sadness". She needed time to mourn.

This morning, she found him in the living room downstairs. He was sitting on the sofa, smoking a cigarette. He was looking into a distance. When he saw her, he quickly picked up the cigarette case.

"Do you want one?"

"Yes, please." She sat by him and he lit her cigarette. A silence continued. Then he turned to her and said:

"We've always been better at silences and intuition than real talk."

"That is so true."

"I was not always wrong when I trusted my intuition. I found you on the right road".

"Yes, you did. But I am not sure we can go on like this."

"Neither am I. But I am an old dog. You must bear with me. I will learn slowly. If ever."

"I know. I just hope that there is some level of trust between us. Isn't it odd that when I was a nun we seemed to work with each other with such ease. Now it is more difficult for me to get the sense of...what you're thinking. It is like "A Cloud Of Unknowing".

"Is that another religious classic that I am ignorant of?" Patrick asked, with a deliberate patience. It was an effort for him, but as a gesture it seemed worthy of this search for a delicate balance.

"Patrick, I am not trying to convert you. I am trying to let you know me better."

"I know. I respect your trust in me. Even in things that are truly strange to me."

The silence that followed seemed to resemble the old times they had had together, at least to some degree. Patrick smiled and Shelagh seemed to be thinking hard and yet she was comfortable in his presence.

"Patrick, there are wonderful passages in that book. It is suitable for a scientist as well. It urges us to abandon all the webs and barriers of our knowledge and trust a "naked blind feeling of being".

"That does not sound very scientific to me, but it is beautiful. I get the sense of it."

"It says that you must wait for the "dart of longing love from the heart" to reach your destination."

"What is that destination?"

"That is the beauty of it. There is no destination. Just being. Of course it relies on the concept of God as a Superior Being, as the origin of all being."

"I like it. I wish it were so."

Suddenly Shelagh became emotional and started sobbing. Patrick stumped his cigarette and took her into an embrace.

"Patrick, we have to let go. Of the past."

"Yes, we do. I know I have to."

He was a bit unsure of what more he should say. Their old riffs sounded too well-worn or unreal in this fragile new relationship. Yet he thought that not all of the old was lost.

"We will fight a good fight. Do you find a one in yourself, my officer?"

"Yes, my sergeant."