8 Chapter 8

Martin had explained that he could carry it, but Bruce had seemed determined to help, so Martin had acquiesced. Sometimes it was easier to just give in.

“Mum’ll have supper ready in a few minutes, so I’ll leave you two to it. But if either of you need anything,” Bruce said, putting a hand on Martin’s shoulder, “me an’ Matt are just next door and mum’s room is opposite this one.”

“Thanks,” Colin said.

“We feel awful about kicking you out of your room like this,” Martin added.

“No worries, mate.” Bruce squeezed the shoulder. “Don’t spend that much time in here anyway.”

“Oh, right,” Martin said, wondering if Bruce was meaning what he thought he was meaning.

After Bruce left, Colin dutifully showed Martin around the room, describing the furnishings. It was quite spacious and well-equipped. The bed seemed large and sturdy. Martin hoped the walls—that Colin told him had a number of watercolours of rural scenes hung on them—would be thick enough to muffle any noises they might make.