"Love it."

"Me too. Settled then?" he asked and smiled his soft smile.

It didn't surprise me that I nodded.

After the reading and the curry dinner, I went into Malcolm's sitting room where there were more books than I'd ever seen on anyone's shelves. I began to read the titles.

"Help yourself," said Malcolm.

"Thanks. But if I read a book, I have add it to my collection."

"Strange, same here." He waved his arms towards the shelves. "But look where it's got me."

"I'd hate to be without books. They're ... friends."

"That sounds like lonely," said Malcolm.

I turned and pulled out a book.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Lonely?"

I shrugged.

"Not really."

"Not really but what?"

My voice came from a distance as I tried to answer him.

"I'm choosy about my friends. Don't have a great many."

"I'm listening," said Malcolm and sat down, indicating the armchair opposite him.

"My childhood was ... I mean, my mother loved moving around. She had no trouble putting down roots all over the place. I hated it! Books were the constant things, so I buried myself in them."

"Hell, sounds familiar."

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