Excerpt

Angelina eased back in her chair and offered Rory a cigarette. They chatted about the favourite movies and occasionally passing cruel verdict on the passers-by while the guitarist ran through a weird repertoire. They found themselves naming the tunes. Predictably, Angelina won 7-3, but Rory chuckled with triumph at Danny Boy, Hey Jude, and Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Angelina sighed quietly. ‘It has been a long time since I have done this. Do you do this in South Africa?’
Rory felt the stubble on his jaw. ‘No.’ he said briefly. ‘There are plenty of parks—not like this—but they’re often too dangerous.’
‘But did you ever want to do this? Just sit and watch the world?’
He was aware of her stare. ’Why do I think there is a wrong answer to that question?’
‘Because there is a right answer.’
‘I don’t ever remember sitting in a park before.’ He checked his watch. ‘Not for nearly two hours. There never seemed enough to do. No, that’s wrong; it never struck me, actually.’
‘Never struck you?’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It never occurred to me. You know, a park is where you take your kids on a Sunday afternoon to eat ice cream. I never had kids and there weren’t many Sundays to spare.’
‘That is very sad.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, of course. When do you get the chance to stop?’
Stop what? ‘Oh,’ he said airily. ‘Often enough. Aren’t you hungry?’
‘No not really. What went wrong with you and your wife?’