They watched as Sacha's taxi drove away with a soft hum...
Stan stood on the road pavement a moment longer, hands in his pockets, watching the tail lights recede. Somewhere at the corner of his mouth, was a small easy smile.
Beside him, Camilla was not smiling. She was stiff, standing with the small precise stillness of a woman who had, a few seconds ago, been called 'my brother's beloved' by a laughing twenty-two-year-old and was, in her own private assessment, still recovering.
Stan glanced at her sideways. He knew better, he could tell that her emotions were in turmoil.
But he did it anyway, he couldn't stop himself from teasing her...
"You're awfully quiet." He asked with a smile as if he didn't know why she was like this...
Camilla didn't look at him as she replied with her face still expressionless...
"I have nothing to say."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Stan smiled, "Not even about being called my belov—"
