One night, I heard him sobbing in his bed. I went in my pyjamas and took his wife's place, held him, comforted him, then before he woke, left him ther.... That morning was the first time since Sara's death that he spoke. It took months after that during which we were like brother and sister, I suppose, though I still loved him. I still felt guilty I was there with him instead of Sara. He took me out for my birthday ... and proposed ... I said yes, of course, and I was happy, but I never lost that. ‘This lesson seems to be getting a bit messy,’ she said, her breath sounding a bit ragged as she unbuttoned my shirt to paint zigzag lines across my chest. I unfastened the first few buttons of her blouse and painted the silky smooth valley between her breasts. ‘You may be right,’ I replied, my voice husky with arousal. It was becoming obvious that neither of us was referring to the paint. ‘Is messy OK?’ she murmured. Her hands found my belt buckle and her paintbrush hit the floor. I didn’t. More

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