‘Look, Matt,’ he cried, ‘I’ve got the glue to mend the dish with! Quick, let me get it!’
Ethan looed round the kitchen, which looked cold and unwelcoming in the wintry evening light.
‘How is she?’ he asked, in the same low whisper.
‘I don’t know. She didn’t say anything, she just went straight upstairs.
Ethan put the glue back in his pocket. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll come down and mend the dish in the night,’ he said.