IN THE HOURS BETWEEN • TC

26. Curiosity(??)

The walk home is painfully silent. Una wants to say a million things, but none of them sound right in her head. None of her sentences make any sense.

Timmy walks next to her, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his puffer jacket, leaving his arms like triangles on either side of his torso. His elbow keeps brushing Una's side, especially when they turn corners.

When Una lets them into the house, she is grateful for the shuffle of coats being taken off and hung up, grateful for the squeaking of damp shoes on floorboards. It's something to drown out the silence.

Timmy follows her into the kitchen, and Una makes two cups of tea without asking if he wants one. He sits at the kitchen table, looking smaller without his jacket. He looks skinny again, fragile, not the boy who just kissed her so warmly. Even now, Una can feel the same simmering in the pit of her stomach as when he pulled her in.

(And did he pull her in? Or did she lean in? Is it all her fault?

Una keeps replaying the scene in her head, but she can't see things from an outsider's perspective. All she knows is how it felt to be kissing him, how it felt to be leaning in as his face came towards her.

Did it? Did it come towards her? Did he lean in too, or was it just her?)

"Would you like a custard cream?" Una asks, opening the biscuit tin.

"Yes, please," he replies, biting the skin at the edge of his thumb. Una takes out two biscuits each and puts them on a plate. Timmy takes one as soon as she sets them down, and sets about dissecting it, nibbling away the top layer of biscuit to get to the cream inside. Una used to do that with custard creams, but now she only does it when no one else is around. She wishes she felt as comfortable around Timmy as he seems to feel around her.

"So," she begins as she sits down in the chair opposite Timothée. He looks at her, blinking expectantly. That's his cue to say something that makes it all better, but he doesn't take it.

Una wishes it was simple. Wishes this could be a simple recognition of feeling, of dissipated tension. We like each other and we just kissed.

But she feels like there's something more to say. Something else that needs to be acknowledged, although she's not sure what.

"Are you going to talk or I should talk?" Timmy asks, and Una watches him nibble at the edge of his biscuit.

"Depends what you're going to say," she replies, and Timmy stares at the custard cream thoughtfully before shoving the whole thing into his mouth. Chewing.

Una smiles and looks down at the table. "I think maybe we should just forget it," she says, and Timmy swallows. His mouth opens as if he's going to say something, but he doesn't. Just takes a sip of his tea and licks his lips. "It's probably best if we don't say anything. To anyone," Una says, and looks away. "You know, probably best for you."

"What about you?" Timmy asks, and Una glances at him. His cheeks are red, probably from the cold, but maybe from the heat of the house. It's difficult to tell.

"Well it's probably best if no one else knows either." By no one else she means her family.

She means Frank.

"I wasn't making a plan to announce this to everyone, Una," Timmy says, picking up his second biscuit and studying the writing on the top. "We kissed," he shrugs, looking up at her and then back down at the custard cream. "Lots of peoples kiss."

It was more important to her than it was to him, evidently. Una looks at her biscuit but doesn't eat it.

"We can forget about this, if you would like," Timothée says quietly, and Una wishes he would seem at least a little wistful. He sounds like he's talking about the weather.