"No. Not till I've said what I've come to say."

"I don't see any point in your saying it. I won't be able to believe it."

"You could ... try." She looked down at her boot; it was a hideous sight, the greenish brown cow shit beginning to dry a little, cake round the edges.

"Um ... do you have any newspaper or anything? Or maybe I could go into the toilet?"

"What for?"

"I stepped in some cow shit. Outside."

"Oh, yes?"

He sounded absolutely disinterested. She felt a pang of panic.

"Yes. Actually, I was surprised; I thought you said you were keeping the cows in this time of year?"

"We're keeping a few out this winter. As an experiment. To see if we can-" He stopped.

"If you can what?"

"Abi, you're not really interested in cows. Or farming. Or me, come to that. Certainly not me. It's all a bloody act. I can't cope with it. Now go and clean up your fucking boot in the lavatory and then go. Please."

Well, that was pretty final. Pretty clear. She really had blown it this time. She couldn't imagine getting past this wall of indifference. And dislike. And mistrust. Better go. She'd tried, at least. Given it a go.

She walked through to the loo, pulled off her boot, sat wiping it with the toilet paper, rather feebly and helplessly. She didn't seem to be able to see properly, and realised that her eyes were filled with tears. God, she was an idiot. Such a stupid, pathetic, hopeless idiot. He must hate her. Really hate her. Well, all she could hope for now was to escape with a bit of dignity. Dignity. Precious little she'd left for herself in the court that day. Saying to them all, "I fancied this man, this married man; I was running after him, actually, and he didn't want me." They must have all found it highly amusing.

She stood up again and walked back into the office. William was apparently absorbed in the forms again. He didn't look round.

"Right," she said, "well, bye, William, then. I'm ... sorry."

"I'm sure you are," he said, and then suddenly, "Why did you do that today, for Christ's sake? Why? In front of all those people, in front of me, rubbing my nose in it, telling everyone you ... you'd wanted to go on with it, with that ... that pile of shit, after what he'd done to you. Are you still in love with him or something? I don't understand ..."

"Oh, God," she said, "no, of course I'm not in love with him; I loathe him; I'd like to see him strung up by his balls ..."

"Well, then-"

"William, it's so complicated. But I've always felt so bad-you know I have-about what I did that night. It's not her fault, not Laura's fault. You say I rubbed your nose in it; what did I do to her? And her kids? It was such a ghastly thing to do. And suddenly today, I thought ... well, I didn't exactly think. I just could see how I could put it a bit right. Let her know that her vile, slimy husband-how she can still be with him I don't know-but anyway, he had wanted to finish it that day. To get rid of me. That it hadn't still been going on. I just ... just ... felt I owed it to her. It wasn't easy," she added.

"And how do I know that's true?" he said, and his face was harsh and distorted, a stranger's face, not kind, gentle William's at all. "How do I know it wasn't some kind of a ... a bid to get him back? To have him thinking well of you again? You've told me so many lies, Abi, about him, about your relationship; how can I be expected to believe anything? And then there was all that shit about how terrible you felt about the child; I had to listen to that, and did I think you should ring him-ring him, for Christ's sake-you ask me that, and then how scared you were of the inquest today. It was fucking endless. Endless. And you seemed to have no idea at all how much it hurt, how horrible it was for me. It was all about you, you, you. You didn't seem very scared, incidentally; you seemed very cool and collected. Almost enjoying it, I'd say. Star of the show."

"That's a horrible thing to say."

"Well, it was a horrible thing to do. Now, please, just go away. Leave me alone."

She walked the length of the shed, her heels clacking on the stone floor. And then stopped. She'd left her bag behind. How stupid was that. She'd have to return, go back into that office, confront him again, confront all that dislike, that sullen, heavy hostility. Horrible. She might have left it there if it hadn't had her car keys in it. But ... she couldn't get home without them. She turned, walked back as quietly as she could, opened the door.

"Sorry," she said. "Sorry, William, I-"

And then she stopped. Because he wasn't looking at the forms anymore; he was sitting with his head in his arms on the desk; and when he looked round at her, she saw that he was weeping.

"Oh, William," she said, her own tears blurring her vision again, stepping forward, bending over him, putting her arm on his shoulders. "William I ..."

And, "Don't," he said, turning away, so that she couldn't see his face, "don't touch me."

"But-"

"Don't," he said. "I'll go mad if you do."

"All right," she said, and very slowly, reluctantly almost, she drew back and would have left then; only he suddenly put out his hand and caught hers in it, and held it, and sat looking at it, as if he wasn't sure how it had come to be there at all; and then he turned it, palm upwards, and bent his head and kissed it, kissed the palm, very sweetly and tenderly and then ...

"Christ," he said, "dear God, Abi, what are you?" And then she pushed his head up and began to kiss him, desperate, hungry for him, her mouth working frantically at his, moaning, almost crying with wanting him, and then suddenly she was astride him on the chair and he had pushed up her sweater and his mouth was on her breasts, licking, teasing, pleasing them, and then she stood up and wrenched off her dress and her pants and then she was astride him again, and he was sinking into her, up her, creating great, searing waves in her of a raw, sweet violence and pleasure that was so close to pain she could hardly bear it, and she came so fast it was shocking, and felt him come too; and they both stayed there for what seemed like a long time, his head on her breast, and she felt him sigh, and then sigh again; then he said, his voice still heavy, "I shouldn't have done that; I'm sorry."

"William, you should, you should; it was wonderful, so, so lovely; I've wanted it for so long."

"For so long?" he said. "You can't have, you-"

And, "I did, I did," she said, "so much I could hardly bear it; every time I saw you I wanted it and-"

"You too," he said, and suddenly it came, his wonderful giggle. "That is just so ... so stupid ..."

"What do you mean, me too-you're not saying you wanted it too?" she said.

And, "Yes," he said, "of course I did, you silly cow ..."

"Don't call me a silly cow."

"Why not? It's a compliment; you know how much I love my girls."

"Oh, all right. Go on."

"Abi, it was driving me insane; I wanted you so much, and I thought you didn't want me, that you just saw me as a ... a ... well, I didn't know how you saw me. Some kind of loser, I suppose ..."

"Loser! William, you can't have thought that ..."

"Well, I did, of course I did, and then today ..."

"Oh, God," she said, "oh, William, I'm so, so sorry about today. I really am ..."

"Don't keep saying that," he said, "please. Let today go. Please. It upsets me, even now; I don't want to ..."

"All right. But I have something to tell you ... something rather awful, in a way. I don't know what to do about it, but I have to tell you, just so-"

"Jesus," he said, and his expression had changed-was wary suddenly, almost scared. "Jesus, Abi, there's someone else; is that what you ..."

"Someone else! William, how can you even think such a thing? There's never going to be someone else, not now, not ever. I love you, William. That's what I have to tell you. I ... well, I love you."

"You what?" he said, and his tone was so odd, filled with disbelief, and his face too, with something close to shock, and she felt quite scared herself, but she had to go on, had to know he knew, just so they could go forward, in whatever direction that might be.

"I said I love you, and I don't care what you think; I don't care if you don't want to hear it. I love you, William. So, so much, I can't begin to tell you. But if you don't want me-and I wouldn't blame you-I swear I'll never come near you again; I absolutely swear it ..."

"You'd better bloody not," he said, and her heart literally sank; she felt it, heavy and sad and infinitely disappointed.

"I won't," she said. "I-"

"No," he said, "I mean you'd better bloody not swear it. Do you think I want to lose you, you stupid, stupid girl? Do you think I don't want you ...?"

"Well ... I-"

"Abi. Say it again. Keep saying it. I can't hear it enough."

"All right," she said. "OK, I love you, William. I really love you. I've never said that before, except to my dad-oh, and maybe to that boy I told you about, the one who-"

"Do shut up," he said. "I don't want to hear about any boys."

"No, sorry, I'm just trying to be truthful. Completely truthful. I love you, William. I always have, from that first day, I think, only I-"

"You can't do," he said, staring at her.

"But I do. If you mean because of how I've behaved, well, I'm pretty bloody stupid. As you know. But ignoring that, I do love you. I love everything about you. I love the way you look, and the way you talk, and the way you giggle, and I love having sex with you so, so much; it's just ... just ... Oh, don't laugh, William; don't laugh at me; it's not funny; it's pathetic, really, sitting here without any clothes on, telling you all this when you made it pretty clear about half an hour ago that you thoroughly disliked me-"

"Of course I don't dislike you," he said, his tone impatient. "I love you too, Abi. I really, really do love you. I can't imagine life without you now; that was why I was so miserable and ... and hostile to you. I ... Oh, hell. Look, do you think we could move? I'm getting a cramp in one of my legs."

"You ... love me?"

"Yes, I love you too. I just said so, didn't I? I'm a simple sort of chap, you know; I don't go in for anything very complex."

Abi stood up. She felt very odd. Odd and physically feeble.

"OK. Sorry about the cramp. Shall we ... shall we move over to the couch? And maybe we could ... could ... Why are you laughing, William? I don't see what's so funny."

"You are," he said. "If you could see yourself you'd see it."

"Well, thanks."

"No, really. Stark naked from the waist down, except for a pair of boots. One covered in cow shit. Quite appropriate, really."

She looked down at herself and grinned. "No wonder I was getting cold."

"You look cold. Here ..." He went and pulled a large green sheet off a hook on the door. "Let's put this over us."

"What is it? It looks sort of waterproof."

"It is. We use it for ... Well, never mind. It might put you off."

"It stinks," she said.

"Yes, well, so do I quite a lot of the time. I'm not always freshly washed and brushed up, you know. You're going to have to get used to smells. If you're going to be a farmer's wife."

"A what?"

"A farmer's wife. Well, I'm not going to change careers. Even for you."

"Did you say wife?"

"Yes, I did. It seems the best thing to me. Don't you want that?"

"William, William, but I can't cook."

"You'll learn."

"And I feel sorry for rabbits."

"You'll get over it."

"And foxes."

"You'll certainly have to get over that."

"And I'm not posh."

"Good."

"Oh, William, I'd love to marry you. Love, love, love it."

"Me too." He looked at her and grinned suddenly. "Really love it. Now, if we could just ... ah, I think ... yes, someone's coming through the shed. Um, ah, hallo, Mother."

Mrs. Grainger, clad in Barbour and headscarf and heavy green wellies, looked at Abi-at her naked lower half, her tousled hair, her smudged eye makeup, her high-heeled, shitty boots.

"Yes, hallo, William," she said.

"Mother, I have some really exciting news. Abi has agreed to marry me."

This is what happiness looks and sounds like, Mary thought, smiling at Russell: a warm room, thick curtains closed against the cold night, a big jug of winter jasmine on the mantelpiece, a log fire, a concert (Haydn) on the wireless-now, Mary, not wireless, but Russell's state-of-the-art sound system; not that it mattered, the music was lovely anyway-new silks for a new tapestry spread out on her sewing table, Russell contentedly sipping at his bourbon and leafing through travel brochures, planning a trip to Italy for them in the spring. And by the hearth, slumbering sweetly, curled up with one another, the latest additions to their household: two Persian blue kittens.

How lucky she was, how lucky they both were, to have found so much so late, and not to have been disappointed by it in any respect.

"You obviously did so well today, Sparrow. I wish I'd come now, I'd have been so proud of you."

"Don't be ridiculous, there was nothing to be proud of ..."

"Oh now, you say that, but Georgia told me how you recited that nursery rhyme to the judge-"

"The coroner."

"Pardon me, the coroner."

"And what on earth was Georgia telling you that for?"