HIS MA LOOKED HIM UP and down when he arrived. ‘Whatever have you been doing to yourself?’ she asked. ‘You look like something the cat dragged in.’
‘I’ve not been sleeping well,’ Rafferty admitted.
‘It’s this unsettled life you lead, Joseph, all this dashing off chasing murderers and interrogating practiced liars can’t be good for a person. A man needs some stability, some certainty in his day-to-day affairs. I don’t suppose you’ve been eating properly either?’
Rafferty, who had hardly been eating at all, though he’d been drinking plenty, was about to deny this, anticipating she would use any such admission to arm her insistence that what he needed was a wife.
But to his surprise, she said nothing of the sort. Instead, she made him sit down by the fire and wouldn’t hear of him tackling
