11

Andrew and Fatou sat in the Tunisian coffee shop, waiting for it to stop raining, but it did not stop raining and at three p.m. Fatou said she would just have to get wet. She shared Andrew’s umbrella as far as the Overground, letting him pull her into his clammy, high-smelling body as they walked. At Brondesbury station Andrew had to get the train, and so they said goodbye. Several times he tried to press his umbrella on her, but Fatou knew the walk from Acton Central to Andrew’s bedsit was long and she refused to let him suffer on her account.
‘Big woman. Won’t let anybody protect you.’
‘Rain doesn’t scare me.’
Fatou took from her pocket a swimming cap she had found on the floor of the health club changing room. She wound her plaits into a bun and pulled the cap over her head.
‘That’s a very original idea,’ Andrew said, laughing. ‘You should market that! Make your first million!’
‘Peace be with you,’ Fatou said, and kissed him chastely on the cheek.
Andrew did the same, lingering a little longer with his kiss than was necessary.