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could make herself a cup of coffee. Bruce had come in to make toast: he liked to eat toast when he was feeling insecure, and now he needed toast.
    â€œIf that’s all right with you,” said Pat. “I’ve given up my place at St Andrews and transferred to Edinburgh. I’ll need somewhere to live, and I’d like to stay on here if you don’t mind.”
    Bruce shrugged. “That’s fine by me,” he said. “My first test of a good tenant is whether the rent is paid. You’ve always paid.”
    â€œAnd your other tests?” asked Pat.
    â€œNoise,” said Bruce. “And tidiness. You’re fine on both of those. I never hear you and you don’t mess up the kitchen. You’ll do just fine.”
    â€œThanks,” said Pat.
    A silence then followed. Bruce raised himself up and sat on one of the surfaces, his legs dangling down over the edge. Pat looked at the kettle, which was slow to boil. She had to talk to him, of course, but she still felt slightly ill at ease in his presence. It was hard for things to be completely easy, she thought, after what she had once felt for him.
    At last she broke the silence. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Bruce,” she said. “Those other rooms. Is anybody ever going to live in them? Those two–those people who went to Greece–are they ever going to come back?”
    Bruce laughed. “They paid until the beginning of August,” he said. “It was their choice. They wanted to keep the rooms while they went travelling. I was expecting to have heard from them by now, but I haven’t. I suppose I’ll give them a month’s grace and then clear the rooms and get somebody else.” He paused. “Why do you ask? Do you know somebody who’s looking for somewhere to live?”
    â€œNo,” said Pat. “I just thought…Well, I suppose I thought that it might be easier for us to have somebody else staying here.”
    Bruce smiled. “A bit crowded with just the two of us? Is that what you mean?”
    Pat drew in her breath. It was exactly what she had meant–and why should she not feel this? It was perfectly reasonable to suggest that the presence of a couple of other people should make life in a communal flat a little easier.
    Everybody who had ever shared a flat knew that two was more difficult than three, and three was more difficult than five. Bruce must know this too, and was being deliberately perverse in pretending not to.
    â€œAll right,” said Bruce. “I know what you mean. I’ll give them two weeks to get in touch and then I’ll move their stuff into the cupboard and we can get somebody else. What do you want? Boy or girl?”
    Pat thought for a moment. The presence of another girl would be useful, as they could support one another in the face of Bruce. But what if this girl behaved as she had done and fell for Bruce? That would be very difficult. A boy would be simpler.
    â€œLet’s get a boy,” she said. “Maybe you’ll meet somebody at work…” She stopped, realising the tactlessness of her remark. She had quickly guessed that Bruce had lost his job, rather than resigned, as he claimed.
    â€œI wouldn’t have anybody from that place,” said Bruce quickly.
    â€œOf course not,” said Pat. “What about Sally? Would she know anybody? Maybe an American student at the university. She must meet people like that who are looking for somewhere to live.”
    Bruce was silent for a moment. He looked at Pat resentfully. “Sally’s history,” he muttered. “Since last night.”
    Pat caught her breath. That was two tactless remarks in the space of one minute. Could she manage a third? So Sally was history? Well, that meant that she had got rid of Bruce, and that he was the one who was history! She wanted to say to him: So you’re history–again! But did not, of