Fonding and Permission Finale

Hutter's voice was drawing closer ever so slowly. He seemed to be probing aisle by aisle, picking up the rubbish as he went along. From what she had gathered so far, he had found four tissues and a can of coke.

She dared another look at Felix and half-mouthed, half-whispered: 'What do we do if he finds us?'

He shrugged, grinning helplessly. 'Explain calmly?'

She grinned back and nodded. There was nothing else to be done.

The voice was now so close now that Theresa felt she could have reached out and touched the man.

"One more dratted row and Hutter goes home ... home to trouble and strife ... now, what's that dratted thing?"

She shuddered as the crooked shadow loomed across the thick, translucent curtain, one hand covering herself, the other in Felix's.

"Left their jommetry for old Hutter, have they ... well, how dratted nice of them ... well, Hutter won't do no dratted jommetry ..."

The shadow bent down. There was an aged man's groan and the sound of a piece of paper being scrunched up disdainfully. Theresa looked down at the pile of clothes. Felix's maths test was nowhere to be seen. They shared a grimace as they heard it tossed into a bin.

A moment later, he passed them once more. They listened closely as he moved to the aisles on the other side of the room and began, by the sound of it, slowly to work his way back towards the door at the far end.

"I can't believe we're getting out of this," whispered Felix.

She put her hands to her lips. They were both facing the window and the dormitories now, gazing out into the night. She turned to smile at him. He was no longer grinning but giving her a questioning look. A moment later she understood why. His hand was on her waist. He held her eye as he lowered it, perhaps waiting for a 'No' from her. But she found, moment by moment, that all she felt was 'Yes'. Hutter muttered away, slowly growing quieter.

Felix was touching her fully now. His hand was gently stroking her shame, his eye ever testing hers for contradiction, his mouth open in fascination at her continued consent. She looked him full in the face, and knew that he saw she loved it. And she loved that he was ready to give her this, did not despise her for wanting it while up here on display ...

"Come here," he whispered.

He drew her closer, then stepped behind her, holding onto the window handle with one hand to avoid falling backwards. She leaned back against him and let his other arm embrace and explore her, while the town's thousand lights swam before her eyes.

"Do you think they're watching over there?" She murmured into his ear, looking towards the dormitoriy buildling as his fingers slid into her.

"Oh, yes ... I'm sure."

She found it easy to believe him. Someone, one of the many people in those lit-up rooms, would have seen her by now. And she would let them -- him -- see everything ... except for who she was ... distance must suffice to hide that ...

She awoke from her reverie when the light went out. With a final "Drat them" the door fell shut and they were alone. For a frightened second she thought Hutter would lock the door. But between Felix's breaths by her ear she could pick up his footsteps receding.

"D'you want the light back on?" asked Felix.

She thought for a moment. It was greatly tempting. That moment at the window just now had held wonders. But she knew that exhaustion was not too far away now. Her head and heart had worked enough tonight. She shook her head.

"Let's just keep it simple now," she said.

Regretfully, she allowed his fingers to leave her. She never let go of his hand. She didn't want another moment without feeling him before the end. They climbed and stumbled off the sill together, laughing at their own soft clumsiness. Then she sat down on the sill, opened herself to him and leant back against the cold window to do nothing, to let him happen to herself.

Epilogue

The sea moved, a lazy, hissing liquid fifty yards below, a smooth, hazy solid on the distant horizon and a great, slow transition over the two dozen miles in between. Gannets hung above the waves, linnets and whitethroats fluttered among the shrubs and the sun soared in the blue. Theresa liked to think of this time of year as the Spanish days, though other people tended to call it July. One of the few who understood was her companion, sometimes behind, sometimes ahead, rarely abreast on the narrow, uneven coast path.

"I really didn't think we'd make it," Felix said.

"Nor me," said Theresa. "I never thought we'd all trust each other enough to sort it out."

The rumour had been growing for a while and with last night's publication of AR21 the news was now everywhere. Through the mists of scientific caution it transpired that CO2-concentrations were finally in decline and would eventually return to safe levels if the present course of action was held.

"I hope we don't all get lazy now," he said sternly. "Some people are just experts at squandering match point."

"I don't think we're anywhere near match point yet ... More like we've just got back on serve two sets and a break down."

"Don't kill the optimism, Tessy."

"I'm not," she said. "I'm just saying 'Keep at it', like you." She looked down at the waves. "And good news take some getting use to when you've been surfing worry all along." She laughed. "I keep thinking I'm stupid for believing the news, just because it's good."

"I know." He smiled. "Makes you wonder whether we should have had our own kids."

"Ha! ... Talk about leaving it late."

Motherhood had never been her greatest dream. She wanted to pass something on, but she had never been sure enough that she was doing people too much of a favour by giving birth to them. Adoption had eleganly sidestepped the issue, though, and her life was richer with Mariana and Paolo.

They walked to the sound of wind, water and birdsong, the soft fall of bare feet on earth their only whispered addition to the music.

"Somehow this feels like a moment to tell each other the secrets," Felix said, and Theresa thought she caught excitement beneath his musing tone.

"Does it?" she said doubtfully.

"A bit," he said tentatively.

"I'm not sure," she said. "The agreed time still seems a while off. I don't know about you, but I still far from dead or bored with you."

"Suppose I fall off this cliff now," he said seriously. "You'll never know who else saw the sticker."

"Well," she said, smiling. "I prefer my imagination."

A young couple walked past. Theresa glanced over her shoulder to see the woman clutching the man's shoulder in a fit of giggles, both of them looking precariously wobbly on their feet.

"I hope those two don't fall," she said.

"We seem to be a safety hazard up here," Felix said ruefully. "Maybe it's time to get out of sight."

"The way people fuss," Theresa said, grinning. "You'd think they've never seen a seventy-year old properly before."

"Quite likely haven't," Felix pointed out. "Not everyone walks in on grandpa's bath."

The path meandered under their feet, hugging the upper edge of the cliff like a long, thin line of icing on an elaborately shaped cake. At last they came to a fork with one of the branches leading up away from the sea and into a lush thicket of heather and bracken.

"This looks like a ... place," said Felix innocently.

"Oh, an actual place, do you think?" She eyed him sardonically.

"A nice place," he said, his voice mellow.

She smiled back. "I'm in."

Though on the whole, she thought afterwards, it had been the other way round.