It might have been a ‘safe house’ in the sense that it was far away from prying eyes and the long arm of the law, but the hut had turned out to offer little in the way of protection from the elements. An insistent, unkind wind serenaded the long night hours knocking at a loose slab, and sleep for everyone had been cold and restless. Ironic then that it was the sun that finally disturbed Joe, creeping in early-morning mischief through the rough woven sackcloth that served for a door. As it seeped behind his closed eyelids and penetrated his consciousness, he gradually became aware that for some time past he had been sleeping with chilled flesh; the thin blanket was bunched high around his chin exposing his legs, his torso was trapped in one position to preserve what little warmth it had found. Tentatively, he stretched out, flexing his toes, feeling the stiffness in his arms and legs, trying to wake his body without moving it too close to the colder parts of the mat upon which he lay.

His companions slept on, blind to the dappled light now filtering freely into every corner of the hut. They breathed in unison, heavily and contentedly, apparently as oblivious to the new brightness as they were as to the dawn cold.  Ned, as was his custom, lay perfectly still on his back, his hands folded neatly on his chest as if he were particularly absorbed in prayer.  Dan and Steve were bunched together, feeding off each other’s warmth, colt-limbed and puffy-faced.  Joe raised his aching body into a sitting position and pulled the blanket around his shoulders. The back of his skull throbbed with dull pain from his night on hard ground.  His eyes were hooded and bleary as he rubbed his forehead with a firm palm, scraping his hair back from his face and pushing his thick, straight brows into further disarray. He leaned forward, taking a cat’s pleasure in the long stretch of his back as he grasped his boots. Awkwardly he stood up and picked his way to the entrance, stooping through the sackcloth to greet the morning.

The splendid daybreak with its wheeling birds and softly whinnying horses dwarfed him with its brilliance, but the sun felt kindly as its still-pinkish light shone onto his pallid face. Joe grunted from the stiffness as he bent to put his boots on, but as he began to walk through the small grove of trees towards the creek, blanket slung over one shoulder, the blood began to circulate, his muscles quickly eased and he began to feel almost cheerful. His plan had been to continue further downstream to bathe in the round, brown pool that eddied there, but when he reached the water and watched it chattering noisily over the stones, the thought of its icy caress dispersing what little warmth he’d acquired seemed unbearable, so instead he chose a narrower part with broad, flat stepping stones and jumped across to the far bank.  He landed straight and true on the shingle, heels together, skidding into the mud, arms aloft to balance him. Above the cleft of the river where he stood, smoother grass sloped away steeply, so he climbed nimbly up the bank, retreated a little way and then lay down, knees bent, hands behind his head, his face turned to the sun. Its rays had gathered strength even in the short time he had been awake, and its heat raised his spirits, driving the last vestige of ache from his limbs. It was good to be alive, good to have stolen this time alone, free from the chores of the day. At first he squinted at the scene around him, unwilling to relinquish his wakefulness, but the bright light soon demanded surrender and he abandoned the struggle to keep his eyes open. Almost straight away, his mind began to wander its way back to sleepiness. The soft, springy turf welcomed his body, and although it was damp, it was such a contrast to the uncomfortable night he’d spent that it felt almost as though he lay upon the finest bed in a warm, fragrant room.

All that was missing now, he mused, was a gentle, pliant body curled against him, one leg slung over his, soft belly breathing against his hip.  Instantly he regretted the uninvited vision. Joe found that the weeks and weeks that now passed without female company ate away at his soul, endowing him with a restlessness that was more than physical. He missed the lightness of their voices, the promises held by their dancing eyes, the velvet touch of their skin, the giggles and sighs as they yielded up their secrets. If the others felt this too, they never said, certainly nothing beyond the odd ribald comment.  For Joe however, the bereavement was too acute for ribaldry, and since he could hardly explain what was in his mind, he mourned alone and said nothing.

As his mind roamed, he reluctantly acknowledged the inevitability of a heavy, growing tension in his groin. With forlorn hope that it might be placated with a simple touch, he rested a comforting hand over his front and half turned into the ground to rest himself more comfortably there. Joe had discarded many of the notions of his upbringing, but he found it difficult to avoid a sense of guilt over the idea of offering himself any relief, save for in the utmost necessity.  Nevertheless, his drowsy arousal in the warm sunshine made it difficult to resist. After a few moments, he couldn’t help himself; his hand flattened against his belly and he slid it down inside his clothes, telling himself that he was dozing, and that therefore he could hardly be held to account for his actions.  In his dreamlike state, the pictures in his mind were especially vivid.  Maureen, a girl he knew in nearby Chiltern, who’d proved particularly accommodating in the dairy one afternoon a few months before.  Then Claire, but Claire as he’d never had her, leaning against a wall, long skirts pushed high around her waist, writhing on his hand, her short hair lending her appearance a certain incongruity.  Finally, Claire naked under him, breasts joggling with their frantic movements...

* * *

Some way away, across the other side of the stream, Claire felt a thrill of anticipation as she scrambled to her feet and realised where she was. She cursed her long white cotton dress which, although the perfect choice when she’d got up that morning, was stupidly impractical for wandering about in the scrubby woodland where she now found herself.  If only, she thought ungratefully, she could be sure of always ending up in the same place, she’d be able to keep clothes and other belongings here, clothes that would actually be useful and make her slightly less conspicuous.  As carefully as she could, she brushed the sandy soil from the delicate fabric, sighing at the smudges left behind and flicking tiny twigs to the ground. As a finishing touch, she ran her fingers down sections of her hair, raking them free of imaginary blades of grass.

Joe, she knew, would be somewhere near, but she had no idea of where, or of how long it might take to find him. She glanced around looking for a path worn between the trees to signpost her in a possible direction. There were none. The entire compass laid its choices before her. After a moment she detected the faint, distant sound of running water, and since a stream might point her towards a settlement of some sort, she decided that would be as good a place to start as any. She set off, conscious of the strange figure she cut for the birds and mammals, and the disturbance she was causing in the perfect, quiet morning air.

As she picked her way through the scrub, she mulled over the phrase ‘dragged through a hedge backwards’ and hoped that before too long she’d encounter a path of some kind. In fact, it was five long minutes before she emerged, slightly breathless, from the trees onto the bank of a creek that bordered open grassland beyond. There didn’t seem any easy way across just at that point, so randomly she turned upstream and began to follow its course. The sun was still barely risen, which made it pleasant to stroll along, even though in places the ground rose steeply. All around her, birds were still greeting the new day, and although she remained excited at the idea of seeing Joe, Claire gave herself up to the peacefulness and beauty of the moment. Presently, she came to a place where the river widened out, forming a deep pool. Beyond this, the water was shallower and the riverbed had thrown up great flat stones, so that she could see how crossing it might now be much easier. The stream did not seem to be taking her anywhere in particular, so she began to watch for a place where the stones lay in a convenient formation for her to get to the other side and explore what lay beyond the grassy hillside.

She became so occupied with this task that she was almost directly opposite Joe before she noticed him. At first, she started in alarm at the sight of the figure sprawled out on the turf, but then a smile of delight crossed her face when she realised who it was. She was about to call out an excited greeting when it occurred to her that he was asleep. Instead, therefore, she lowered herself to the water’s edge and with only a little difficulty executed a series of hops and jumps and balances to take her across. In order to climb out the higher far bank, she had to pull herself up and hook her knee over the top, further ruining her dress. This time, however, she barely noticed.

She scrambled to her feet and focussed on Joe once more. He lay awkwardly half on his back but with one knee bent as if frozen in the act of rolling onto his front. Her heart lurched and she swallowed hard as she realised that he wasn’t asleep after all, or at least, he was only dozing lightly. His obliviousness to his surroundings had far more to do with the rhythmic flexing of his smooth, brown forearm than with sleep. His shirtsleeve was pushed untidily up to the elbow and his hand was buried to the wrist down the front of the rough, black pants he wore. As a position for self-stimulation, it was a little half-hearted, which given the openness of his situation was perhaps not surprising.

Half-hearted or not, the sight of her lover pleasuring himself in the early sunshine moved Claire greatly. Undeniably it stimulated her own desire, but beyond that, she was touched by his vulnerability. To see him quite alone, attempting to fulfil his own needs struck her as deeply poignant. Unsure of what to do next, she approached him gingerly. His curls, chestnut in the sun, tangled untidily over his head. His slightly uneven nose twitched periodically as if in irritation. His forehead showed traces of sunburn and it had been a few days since his face had encountered the care of a razor. The continuing movement of his arm showed that he still had no idea that he had company. A deep little sigh escaped from his moist, parted lips, and Claire felt herself grow warm. It was tempting to watch until his activity reached its conclusion, but she guessed that that might embarrass him when he realised. Besides, insisted the more self-interested part of her brain, it seemed a bit of a waste.  Therefore, she sat herself down silently next to him and leaned into his ear, careful to avoid touching it lest she startle him before she could speak.

“Need some help with that?” she asked, unable to entirely suppress a thread of laughter in her quiet voice.

The effect was instant. Joe jerked fully awake, pulling his hand free as fast as the awkwardness of his position allowed.

“Jesus, Claire!” He sat up, his words expressing his delight as well as his shock. “Creeping up on a man like that. You’ll be after giving me a heart attack!”

“Well, it’s not like you were asleep or anything,” said Claire, absolutely delighted to have something to tease him about so soon.

“I don’t know what ye mean. I was well gone there for a moment.”  Not insensitive to the humour of the situation, Joe’s eyes sparkled, but his cheeks, Claire noticed, were rather pinker than they had been. She held his gaze, watching the blush rise like mercury into his untidy hairline.

“I don’t think you were,” she said, biting away her smile. Joe, sitting up properly now, laughed and pulled her towards him.

“You’re a bad devil for startling me like that,” he said, obviously not about to confess. “But it’s grand that you’re here.”

He sunk his hand around the back of her head and fastened his eyes on her mouth as if it were the one thing he had most wanted to see.  She was reminded of the pool she’d just past by with its calm, brown depths. He landed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips then moved back a little to look at them again. A second kiss followed, this time with the tiniest tug of suction, then another close examination of her face as if committing it to memory. In the silence of his intense concentration, Claire wondered if he could hear her heart beat. She could feel his breath on her cheek as he touched her again, but this time rather than withdrawing he pulled himself round to a better angle for kissing her passionately and at length. The passion of his kiss quite clearly reflected not only how pleased he was to see her, but also the level of arousal which his hand had already brought him to. She could feel him full and hard against her and an all-pervading warmth and fluidity in his movements. After her anticipation of their reunion, not to mention the way she had found him, it was so easy to respond to his ardour that within only a few seconds their kiss had ceased to be a greeting, and she had rolled onto her back, pulling him down heavily on top of her.

Almost immediately Joe ran his hand his hand under her skirt, caressing her bare leg and manoeuvring himself closer against her. His tensioned body and hungry soul scented satisfaction, urging him to unbutton himself and to push his way into the welcoming body beneath him. Claire’s parted thighs and the desperation with which she returned his kiss made conquest seem all the closer. His mind, on the other hand told him that this would be an unacceptable way to behave, even if his partner seemed not unwilling. Apart from anything, they were lying in the open without even a handy bush to shield them from the prying eyes of his friends who might appear at any moment. Yet all the while that she was making him so welcome upon her, it seemed impossible to moderate their highly charged embrace.  He found himself reflecting that if Ned, Dan or Steve happened by they would turn away and quite probably never mention it again, in which case, there was hardly a problem.

For Claire, the idea of Joe hot and excited and barely able to contain himself acted as a powerful aphrodisiac. His weight upon her sent her entire body pulsing with need for him, and every touch of her hands, every sigh into his open mouth seemed to urge him on to finish what he had started. And yet, and yet…there was no denying that a few nights holed up in a hut which had originally housed a couple of goats had done nothing to enhance Joe’s appeal. His own smell, powerful, woodsy and delicious had been swept away by something altogether stronger and more unpleasant. Not only that, but they were lying in a field which, as far as she knew, might be mere yards away from being overlooked. She pushed at his ribcage in an ineffectual attempt to roll him off her.

“Joe, stop! Hey, slow down! There’s no rush!”

“Aw Claire, you don’t want to stop now,” muttered Joe into her neck, knowing that she was right but finding his mind fighting a losing battle with his cock. “Go on,” he added, moving closer to her ear and denying his own concerns in seductive tones, “Nobody can see us here. You know you want to. We’ll be fine.”

“Joe, no!” She was laughing now but pushing harder, her resolve hardening. “Will you GET OFF?”

Obediently but with visible reluctance, Joe flopped onto his back, breathless and wearing a sulky expression on his face. He reminded Claire of a little boy who’d had a bag of sweets taken away. Even that endeared him all the more to her.

“Hey, I only meant there must be somewhere we could go, a bit more private,” she said coaxingly, sitting up and leaning over to smooth the frown from his forehead, unaware that the movement gave him an unimpeded view down the front of her dress.

Joe smiled and raised his arms in mock surrender. “Alright. You’re right. I agree. It’s just difficult when I’ve been all these weeks without….without seeing ye.” His face was damp now, his breath was still heavy. His untidy scruff tickled at her face as he kissed her.

“Maybe we could go into the woods over there?” suggested Claire, keen as he to maintain their momentum. Joe struggled up onto his elbows, chuckling at her inability to disguise her anxiety. She sounded almost as desperate as he felt.

“So you’re not plannin’ on demanding I take ye to a fancy hotel then?” he asked mischievously.

“And would there be much point if I did?” she countered, determined as always not to let him get the better of her.

“I reckon I might need to rob another bank before we do that, not to mention persuade Ned to let me keep the swag, and somehow I don’t think you’re wanting to wait that long.”

“Maybe,” she continued, ignoring him and concentrating instead on more practical matters, “We could go for a swim in that pool down there first?”

Joe had grown up swimming in creeks and pools and was fond of the feel of the water on his skin, the pressure as his arms and legs forced it to yield space to him, the mysterious depths and the sunlight on the bobbing surface.  Normally he would have been charmed by her suggestion, but he was puzzled as to how this might have anything to do with lovemaking.  He contemplated the effect of freezing water on his ardour and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Come on!” she insisted, tugging at his hand.

Reluctantly he stood up and wrapped his arm firmly around her shoulders. They started to make their way downstream, their gait made bumpy and awkward by the closeness with which they walked. He smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head.

“Well, at least we’ve almost two hundred and fifty yards to have a proper serious conversation,” he told her. “Don’t ever say I don’t know how to treat a lady.”

The temperature was gradually rising, but even so, it was still early for a swim. There was no doubt that the water would be close to unbearable. Claire began to wonder if after all it wouldn’t just be easier to skip the ablutions and accustom herself to the goats.  Surely she could just hold her breath a bit?  When they reached the pool, she peered into it cautiously, then lest she change her mind, turned around and motioned to Joe to undo the back of her dress.

“Let me get this right now,” he said, fumbling for the tag at her neck. “This is like those boots you have, I just pull this all the way down?” He began to lower the zip very slowly, pausing every few inches to kiss her back. “Am I doing this right for ye?”

Claire shivered at the tickle of his mouth and breath on her skin, and understood he wasn’t just asking about the zip.

“Oh yes, very right,” she giggled.

Joe resumed his work, marvelling at the bare flesh so easily accessible to his fingers and his tongue. The way Claire walked about in fewer clothes than other women would wear in bed was an erotic idea that he had been turning over in his mind not ten minutes earlier, and the delay in gratification they had imposed on themselves made the prospect of her nudity exciting.

“Jesus, Claire, have ye nothin’ at all on under this frock?” he enquired, wondering if after all he might persuade her back to the ground and under his body before their swim. His balls, still high and tight with desire, or perhaps the prospect of the impending swim, begged him to give the idea serious consideration.

“Of course I have!” she laughed, twisting her shoulders free of the fabric and watching it billow to the ground in parachute heaps around her ankles.

“Not so to speak of,” observed Joe, his lightness of tone a throaty effort. To his eye, the modest triangle of fabric apparently held in place by a piece of string offered neither concealment nor warmth or protection. He turned away to concentrate on unfastening his own clothes, deeming it best not to watch as she pulled the tiny garment off and dived into the pool. When she surfaced again, gasping and laughing with shock at the cold, he was just finishing undressing. Unaware of his own grace, he stepped lightly to the edge of the pool and paused to pose himself for a perfect dive. His body was as hard and magnificent as she’d remembered. His erection was waning but lingered optimistically in front of him, hanging a little by its own weight as he curled his toes over the bank and stretched out his arms.

There was a loud splash, the wash of it slopping over her, and then he was beside her, his hair black and sleek like a seal. He trod water, reaching out blindly as he shook the water from his eyes. Still laughing, she raised her weightless legs and encircled his waist. Her body was growing accustomed to the cold now, and she could see the tiny goosebumps on his chest and feel him slimy against her as he fumbled up the sloping river bed to find a footing.

“There’ll be nobody as can see us here,” he teased her, recovering his vision on the spectacular sight of her partially submerged breasts. “So now you’re sat on me like this, tell me what’s to stop me taking ye this very second.”

Claire pressed herself closer to Joe, squeezing out the freezing water that flowed between them and sinking a little nearer to his groin. In such a position she easily expected to feel the tip of him poking gently against her, but there was nothing. She wriggled experimentally as Joe watched with a grin, but there was nothing. She twisted around in an easy movement that would have defied her on dry land

“You are,” she observed, slipping a hand beneath him and capturing him easily and entirely in her palm. “It’s too cold in here for you to get it up,” she added, in case he needed the clarification.

It was not an expression Joe had ever heard another women use, but he was no longer shocked by Claire’s blunt and unladylike language, and besides, what she said was undeniably true. The dull ache of want, nagged by the visual stimulation of her nakedness, remained deep in his belly, but the shock of his dive into the icy water had sent all outward manifestations into hasty retreat. Before he could answer though, she laughingly pushed away from him and swam across the pool, ducking her head under once more and sending the ghostly globes of her bottom surfacing cheekily at him.

Joe watched her go. The pool was not large, so he waited until she paused by the far bank and then reached her in three or four easy strokes, tasting the water on her neck until she giggled, and then running a finger down her stomach to the cleft between her thighs. She flinched, her toes sinking into the oozing mud under her feet.

“Is that what you’re thinking? That I’m not ready for ye?” he enquired, buzzing wetly on her ear.  “You climb out on that bank now and say that to my face.” His finger grew a little more insistent. “Or maybe you would rather forget the whole idea, hmm? C’mon Claire. What’s it to be?”

“Joe, I…”

His voice stayed low and quiet. “It was you who showed me what happens when I do this to ye. Are you really going to tell me to stop again now?”

“I was only going to say,” said Claire, who had no serious intention of making love in cold water, “That if you fetch our clothes and that blanket thing, I’ll meet you on this side of the pool where there are more trees.”

It was a brief bathe, and there was no hot water and soap involved, but even so she was confident that most of the smell had gone.  Even if there were traces of goat remaining, the infrequency of their liaisons meant that she was happy to overlook them.  Missing his company when they were apart was all very well, but she would not jeopardise the rewards of being wanted and then satisfied by him.

Joe straightened up and gave her a salacious wink. “Don’t go away now,” he said, turning to swim back the way he’d come. The cold water did nothing to anaesthetise the throbbing sensation his touch had left behind and she watched lustfully as he unselfconsciously climbed out of the water, gathered up their belongings and waded strongly across the top of the pool where the stream tumbled down into it. She swam to join him, accepting his outstretched hand to pull her from the water.

The day was not yet hot enough to make drying in the air a pleasant experience, so they did the best they could with the blanket, rubbing each other and laughing, a little bashfully, over the discomfort they were prepared to endure. Joe squeezed water from Claire’s hair, performing the task with the same earnest attention that he had brought to kissing her before. His tender thoroughness sent a shiver running through Claire that was nothing to do with the early hour. Even as they worked, the tension between them persisted, making them hurry to lay the blanket down in the nearest sunny spot and smooth it out. Then there was nothing more to do, no more flirting necessary, no more preparations they could make. They moved to meet in the centre. Joe cupped her face in both his hands and kissed her, then as if they had wasted too much time already they sunk to the ground.

Face to face they lay, watching each other intently, revelling in the sensation of Joe growing and hardening between their bellies. He touched her again, breathing slowly through his mouth, his tongue creeping out in concentration as she responded.  Silently, she rolled onto her back, biting her lip as she welcomed him and then gasping with relief as he shoved himself into her.  The contrast between their cool, clammy skin and their fiery readiness was almost too much, and he closed his eyes, fighting the instant climax that threatened to overwhelm him. He opened them again, looking deliberately over her shoulder at the ground, hardening his ears against her soft moans until he could trust himself to move again. 

“Are ye OK there?” he asked, panting slightly at the self-control he was exerting, and sharing a look of joyful ecstasy with her.

“Uh,” she agreed. “That’s…not bad.”

He tried an experimental push or two and felt a familiar tightening in his belly that made him stop again. Carefully he raised himself, lifting her legs high around his hips until her bottom left the ground and he could rock against her without immediate danger of reaching his end.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he muttered, sliding his hands under her buttocks and concentrating on sustaining the even keel he had found.

“Were you thinking about me?” asked Claire dreamily. “Back up there, when you were…” she hesitated, wondering acceptable term might serve. “Touching yourself?”

Joe opened his eyes and looked down at her. There was no trace of teasing in her voice, just honest, breathy curiosity; just her slim, pale form now part of his own body. Denial seemed pointless, and at that moment he felt a flame of desire to be open with her. He sank against her, his wet hair curling onto her face and she twisted a lock around her tongue and sucked on it as her fingers dug into his back.

“Yes,” he admitted to her breast, firmly banishing visions of other women and speaking a reasonable version of the truth. “I always think about you when I…do that. Think about you like ye are now.”

Claire smiled over Joe’s shoulder at her small triumph, grinding herself on to him a little more firmly.

“And you?” he added, daringly because Claire was the only woman he would have said this to. “Do you ever think about me like this?”

“Yes,” she murmured dreamily into his hair. “I remember the things we’ve done and I think about you when I’m in bed. Sometimes,” she continued, not insensible to the effect the news would have on him,  “I touch myself too.” She ground on to him a little harder, a little faster.

“Jesus! Don’t move like that when I’m so close.” His voice suddenly took on a new, rasping quality; she could hear it resonating in his chest. The last part of his brain capable of rational thought wanted to respond to this revelation, ask her if this was something all women did, but he sensed this was not the moment, and stored the question away for future use.  Claire was leaning back gently now, settling him so that his pelvis rested heavily against her.

“Is this better then?” she asked in a whisper.

He smiled down at her again, feeling the ballooning urge inside him ebb a little. He nodded, his tongue curling up over the corner of his lip, his body settling into a new pattern of more shallow thrusts.

“It’s grand, but I can’t be holding off another time.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” she replied, still in a dreamy, sing-song voice, reaching up to caress his flat, hard chest. “Me too.”
 
A few moments later, her cry startled a flock of birds and they rose in a great clap of wings from the nearby trees, their squawking signalling the finish to the empty country around them. Joe laughed, his face hot and damp again, wet curls plastered flat to his head.  He hugged her tightly then they rolled apart, and still touching, lay looking up at the canopy of trees latticing across the sky above them. For a few moments neither of them spoke.

“Ye can’t stay you know,” Joe told her regretfully. “We’re miles from anywhere here, just riding through.”

“I know.” She comforted him with an arm flopped over his chest. “I understand.” She snuggled closer against him. “Stay with me though. Fall asleep with me here?”

He bent his head to look down at her.

“Did ye think I’d just leave ye here then?”

“No. I don’t think you’d do that. I think you’re much too well brought up to abandon a naked lady in the woods.”

“To hell with being brought up,” said Joe, kissing her head with an easy affection. “Ye know I don’t want ye gone from me. I’ll be missing ye again before you’re half out of me sight.”

Claire smiled into his chest.

“Though I’ve never thought ye were exactly what we call a lady round these parts,” he added wickedly, grinning at the kick in the leg that his words earned him.

Sleep, which had so easily stolen over Joe when he lay alone on the grass, was more evasive now. Warm exhaustion from their lovemaking flooded through him, but drowsiness remained elusive. Claire was already sleeping peacefully against his chest. He wondered what would happen if he remained awake. Would she maybe just stay here in the woods with him? Would she somehow evaporate in his arms?  Although the idea of keeping her with him was delightful, it was fraught with practical problems, so he rested his head on hers, tucked the blanket over her as best he could, and waited patiently for oblivion to claim him. Beside him, her body rose and fell, her lips parted and she muttered lightly. He began to worry about what would happen if Ned and the boys found them there? How was he meant to explain Claire’s sudden appearance in the middle of nowhere? Like a child commanded to go to sleep, he closed his eyes tightly as if in obedience to some unseen authority.

He was still telling himself that sleep was never going to come when he finally lost consciousness.  It was only for a few brief seconds but it was enough. When he opened his eyes again, he was quite alone amongst the trees. He sat up looking all around in case she had wandered away for a moment. There was nothing; only a faint rustling from some animal in the undergrowth broke an oppressive silence. She was gone.

 Joe lay back on the ground and contemplated the bright morning sky with bitterness. Like chasing a half-remembered dream, already there was nothing to show that she had ever been with him. Even her clothes had vanished. He sighed, rose to his feet and dressed, ready to return to the hut and the daily duties that awaited him.  First job, boiling water for a drink of tea.  Gradually however, as he tramped back up the hill, a kind of peace began to steal over him. It was not true, he realised, that she had left nothing behind. He had an ease and contentment that was more than just physical. And he was refreshed by the reminder that somewhere, Claire was already missing him as much as he missed her. One day, no doubt, when he least expected it again, she would be back.