The Country Escape. Jane Lovering
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We stood together in the doorway. Keenan was a dark smear beyond the window; he’d wound his coat around his upper body and head like a shroud and was walking up and down the front path, glazed with rain and muttering.
‘Looks like Davin’s family banshee on holiday,’ Gabriel observed. ‘Let me get him out of here.’
We stared at one another for a moment. ‘Let’s agree on a handshake,’ I said.
‘I was going to go for cheek kiss?’
‘I’m just going to gently pat your arm. It’s safer.’
There was a bit of a moment of confusion when we both raised our right hands, but because we were standing face to face there wasn’t room for either of us to do anything with the raised hand, and we lowered them again.
‘Take it as read?’ he said, after a bit of elbow-clonking.
‘I think so, yes.’ I opened the door.
Keenan, mac over head dripping like a gutter, jumped and then said, ‘We’d better go. I think I’m dissolving.’
I closed the door and went back to Patrick’s bucket.
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