“No, love. I’m sorry for frightening you. But you’ve been hurt, there are loads of bloody finger marks in the kitchen.” Colin lifted up Martin’s hands. “They look okay, just a few small nicks.”
“Sorry, I cut myself when I was doing the sprouts, I’m not used to handling them, cause I don’t like them myself.”
“No, me neither,” Colin said.
Martin started to giggle. “I ought to make you eat them all up for causing me all that trouble.”
“Sorry, but you never told me you were going to do sprouts. And what about me? When I saw the blood, I didn’t know what had happened to you, I thought you’d been hurt.”
“A right pair of twits, aren’t we?” Martin said, relaxing. It was okay. Everything was fine.
“Let me give you a hand in the kitchen.”
“It’s okay, I know where everything is. And there isn’
