adjoining aisle, this only seems to aggravate Woody's rage. "Go finish your break," he mutters. "We don't need anybody saying you were cheated out of it."
No doubt he means Lorraine. Ross thinks she has approached to keep an eye on how he's being treated until she says "I haven't had my coffee break yet. Can I take it now?"
"Sure, why not. Leave me to fix these."
Ross shelves the books he picked up and is heading for the staffroom when Lorraine takes hold of his arm. "Let's talk outside."
She lets go once he follows, and hugs herself as they step out of the entrance. The fog beyond the three scrawny trees has soaked up all the heat and light of the sun, transforming it into a sourceless greyish diffused presence. The murk retreats a pace as though acknowledging or mocking Lorraine and Ross, then drifts back, leeching colour from a few parked cars. Ross wonders if the boys could be hiding nearby in it as Lorraine trots along the shopfront and waits for him to catch up. "Did he make you come down with him?" she demands.
"Of course he didn't, Lorraine."
"Then why do you have to jump to his defence?"
"I didn't think I was. I didn't know he needed it."
"Men don't, you mean."
Though Ross keeps his sigh quiet, he sees it swell in front of his face like a thought balloon in a comic. "I don't, no. I mean, I don't mean that. Why do you …"
"Go on, tell me it's my fault somehow."
"I'm not saying it's anyone's fault. It just seems sometimes you don't like working here at all."
"I expect I'll like running my reading group. I like talking to people about books. That's why I thought I'd like a job that was all about them, but it isn't, is it? Do you know what I'd love to do?"
"Is it something for Connie?"
"For God's sake, Ross, there's more to my life than this place." Lorraine glares at the fog as if it has dared to contradict her and says "I'd like to teach riding."
"Can you?"
"I've taught my little cousin Georgie on her pony. You should see her bouncing up and down on it all proud of herself. There was a job at the riding school, but I didn't know then I was that good at it, so I applied here instead."
"There'll be other riding jobs round where you live, will there?"
"Not often. I don't think the girl the school took on has settled in too well, though."
"Maybe you'll be able to take over, and you've got to like more than your reading group while you're here, have you?" When her eyebrows rise a slow quarter of an inch, perhaps to let the possibility in, Ross says "At least that's something to thank Woody for."
"I put myself forward. He didn't choose me," Lorraine objects and twists around as if to confront Woody through the window. As he straightens up, tenderly smoothing the comers of a paperback, his gaze snags on Ross's and his lips move. "What does he mean, you're busy?" Lorraine requires to be told.
"Maybe you should ask him."
"Fair enough, I will."
The fog seems to greet her intention with a dance, trailing its hem over the tarmac. "Hang on," Ross blurts. "He'll be thinking of me and Jake."
"Well, that is unexpected. Why would he do that?"
"I think he thought I was giving Jake the wrong kind of hand in the stockroom. I hope you don't need me to tell you I wasn't."
"No reason to get defensive if you were, Ross. That's half the problem with the world, men not accepting their feminine side."
"The other half is women not owning up to their male part, you mean."
He knows she doesn't before he has finished speaking. His attempt at wit seems nothing more than automatic now that it's exposed; he feels as though he's being forced to perform a script for an unseen audience—the boys in the masks, perhaps? When Lorraine turns towards the fog he thinks she has the same impression, but she says "I'm going for a walk."
"Shall I come with you?"
"I wish I were riding." She mustn't intend him to hear any wistfulness; none is left in her voice as she says "There's really no need."
"I just thought you mightn't want to
No doubt he means Lorraine. Ross thinks she has approached to keep an eye on how he's being treated until she says "I haven't had my coffee break yet. Can I take it now?"
"Sure, why not. Leave me to fix these."
Ross shelves the books he picked up and is heading for the staffroom when Lorraine takes hold of his arm. "Let's talk outside."
She lets go once he follows, and hugs herself as they step out of the entrance. The fog beyond the three scrawny trees has soaked up all the heat and light of the sun, transforming it into a sourceless greyish diffused presence. The murk retreats a pace as though acknowledging or mocking Lorraine and Ross, then drifts back, leeching colour from a few parked cars. Ross wonders if the boys could be hiding nearby in it as Lorraine trots along the shopfront and waits for him to catch up. "Did he make you come down with him?" she demands.
"Of course he didn't, Lorraine."
"Then why do you have to jump to his defence?"
"I didn't think I was. I didn't know he needed it."
"Men don't, you mean."
Though Ross keeps his sigh quiet, he sees it swell in front of his face like a thought balloon in a comic. "I don't, no. I mean, I don't mean that. Why do you …"
"Go on, tell me it's my fault somehow."
"I'm not saying it's anyone's fault. It just seems sometimes you don't like working here at all."
"I expect I'll like running my reading group. I like talking to people about books. That's why I thought I'd like a job that was all about them, but it isn't, is it? Do you know what I'd love to do?"
"Is it something for Connie?"
"For God's sake, Ross, there's more to my life than this place." Lorraine glares at the fog as if it has dared to contradict her and says "I'd like to teach riding."
"Can you?"
"I've taught my little cousin Georgie on her pony. You should see her bouncing up and down on it all proud of herself. There was a job at the riding school, but I didn't know then I was that good at it, so I applied here instead."
"There'll be other riding jobs round where you live, will there?"
"Not often. I don't think the girl the school took on has settled in too well, though."
"Maybe you'll be able to take over, and you've got to like more than your reading group while you're here, have you?" When her eyebrows rise a slow quarter of an inch, perhaps to let the possibility in, Ross says "At least that's something to thank Woody for."
"I put myself forward. He didn't choose me," Lorraine objects and twists around as if to confront Woody through the window. As he straightens up, tenderly smoothing the comers of a paperback, his gaze snags on Ross's and his lips move. "What does he mean, you're busy?" Lorraine requires to be told.
"Maybe you should ask him."
"Fair enough, I will."
The fog seems to greet her intention with a dance, trailing its hem over the tarmac. "Hang on," Ross blurts. "He'll be thinking of me and Jake."
"Well, that is unexpected. Why would he do that?"
"I think he thought I was giving Jake the wrong kind of hand in the stockroom. I hope you don't need me to tell you I wasn't."
"No reason to get defensive if you were, Ross. That's half the problem with the world, men not accepting their feminine side."
"The other half is women not owning up to their male part, you mean."
He knows she doesn't before he has finished speaking. His attempt at wit seems nothing more than automatic now that it's exposed; he feels as though he's being forced to perform a script for an unseen audience—the boys in the masks, perhaps? When Lorraine turns towards the fog he thinks she has the same impression, but she says "I'm going for a walk."
"Shall I come with you?"
"I wish I were riding." She mustn't intend him to hear any wistfulness; none is left in her voice as she says "There's really no need."
"I just thought you mightn't want to
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