Life settled back into its old routine quickly after the funeral. He worked all hours, mainly nights, and his old patterns returned. His mother's death became just another blip, another pothole on an already pockmarked road. She was no longer an issue. He had what little he had wanted of her things, the rest he had Emily hand into charity shops for him. The apartment was for sale. It was over. Marie had not shown up again. He didn't doubt she had run away again.

"I'm coming, damn it,"

He yelled across the apartment at the impatient, shrilling phone. As his hand swooped for the handset, his knee cracked off the side table. Curses turned the air around him blue, as he lifted the receiver.

"Yes?"

He demanded angrily of whichever faceless voice was disturbing his precious non-work hours.

"Bad time?"

"You could say that,"

The voice was female, and he recognised it too quickly. His tone was terse, purposely so.

"You O.K?"

"Think I cracked my kneecap answering the damn phone, but apart from that, I'm fine,"

The response was a little more emotional than he'd intended, due to the increasing pain in his left knee. It was enough to make anyone a little ratty. There was a muffled laugh on the other end of the line.

"What do you want, Marie?"

Hadn't they said all they needed to at the cemetery? Had he not made himself clear enough? Why did she want back into his life? There was a long, deliberate intake of breath and a momentary silence.

"Will you meet me?"

She asked, the rest of the breath gushing from her in relief.

"Just for coffee or something?"

Marie had always been too proud to beg, but there was something in her tone pleading with him.

"Why?"

The question was cold. It cut across her exactly the way it was designed to.

"Why not? What have you got to lose?"

Marie fired back, almost as coldly.

"I'm busy, Marie,"

He said finally, and hung the phone up. He didn't need to go back there.