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Rosina

"Why are you wearing Sally's clothes?"

"I got mine wet."

"Doing what?"

"Rescuing your mother from the weir."

"Oh, no. Not again... Where is she?"

"In the other room."

***

Rosina sat melting in state before the ash-log fire.

"Oh, Mum, what are you like?" said Miriam, bending down to cuddle her.

"I'm like salmon."

"This has got to stop."

"I know. I know. It always does."

"I mean it this time."

"You always do."

Miriam assigned a kiss to her mother's brow and turned away. Her eyes were brimming.

"Thank you, Rico. Thank you so much."

"That's O.K."

He couldn't stop shivering.

"Come and sit by the fire," she ordered, dragging a chair away from the table and placing it beside Rosina's.

She fetched a big blanket and wrapped it around them both, then went off to cook some food.

"How do you feel?" said Rico, after they'd both stared contentedly at the flames for a few minutes.

"It's easy," replied Rosina. "You just stay open."

"I mean are you feeling better?"

"Better than who?"

"Better than you were when I fished you out."

"Fished me out? Sounds enchanting… Are we in bed together?"

Her hand reached across under the blanket and squeezed his right thigh.

"You're my favourite angler," she murmured. "You're the best one I've ever had."

She began to pull up the dress with which Sally had provided him (all the trousers around being too small for him to wear). Now her touch was unmediated by cloth. The hand began to slide towards his groin.

Looking back to half an hour before, he realised that the embrace in the water had been more passionate than desperate. This explained the present problem but didn't solve it. If he allowed her to continue he might be exploiting her. If he prevented her from continuing he might insult her. And what was worse, the denizens of his groin couldn't even agree that the problem existed.

"You two look sweet," said Sally, as she entered the room.

"We are sweet. We're sweet on each other."

"How are you, Gran?"

"How am I? How is anybody? It's a mystery."

Sally chuckled:

"You'll live."

"I will. I can't do anything else."

Rico took this opportunity to extricate himself from beneath the blanket.

"I've spun your clothes. They're in the tumble-drier."

"How long?"

"Ooh, ages."

He began to shiver again.

"You stay by the fire. I'll go and see if Mum wants any help."

He crouched down with his back to the flames. Rosina gazed at him intensely. He felt she was seeing into him, deeper than anyone had seen before. At the same time he knew she didn't know him from Adam. Their bodies had been united forever in the icy weir; they'd been right up to death together and returned, setting them apart from all other pairs of bodies in the world. The only objections were in his head. He fancied Sally. If anything, he fancied Miriam more, although she'd so far been totally unresponsive to his charms. But Rosina? It might even be a crime.

"Come back to bed."

"I don't think that would be wise."

"Who wants to be wise?"

"You don't even know who I am."

"Who you am?"

"What's my name?"

"Adam."

"No," he laughed. "It's Rico."

"Rico?" she echoed. "Sounds a bit fishy to me."

"I didn't choose it."

"Well, if you're Rico, I'm Salmonella."

"Salmonella's a disease."

"Then I hope you know how to catch it."

"It's impossible. No offence. I'd love to. But there are too many obstacles. I'd be vilified."

Two of the obstacles came in and began to lay the table.

***

A bowl or two of soup later, he sat back and enjoyed some inner warmth.

"Was there ever an Adam?" he enquired, when Rosina had nodded off.

Sally looked downcast.

"Why do you ask?" said Miriam.

"Your mother mentioned the name."

"He was Sally's last boyfriend."

"Oh?... What happened to him?"

"He couldn't swim."

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