Читать книгу William’s Progress - Matt Rudd - Страница 58

We are all friends again.

Jacob, who hadn’t smiled for a week – and who could blame him – has been grinning away all morning. So much so that, by midday, I was wondering if he was grinning too much. Have they done a Channel Five documentary called The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Grinning?

Isabel is as relieved to be home as I am. We apologise to each other, we cuddle, we kiss. I can’t remember the last time we kissed…certainly not last week. But that was probably because of the hacking coughs. Maybe the week before. I think we might have done it then.

We haven’t had sex since Christmas Day when she was forty weeks pregnant, frightened and frightening. I do not intend to have anything approximating sex with Isabel until she is completely and utterly recovered from childbirth. My benchmark for this is a full month after the last time she says ‘Owwwwwch’ and clutches her stomach when trying to pick something up. If it takes six months, that is fine. Or a year. Or ten years, even. (Well, maybe not ten years.) But kissing…we always kiss. Or we always did.