By the morning of the match, Victor had waited through a whole rest day for an hour alone with his wife, and the last ten minutes of patrol took approximately six years. As he hung up his coat, Tommy asked if Damien's name went on the list for their room now. Voss took the pencil, wrote it in and put the list back on its nail.
"That's my wife he's sleeping beside," Victor said after Tommy had gone. "I'd appreciate it if anybody here understood why I might want to take a minute."
"I understood it yesterday. I understood it this morning when you made a perfectly good pot of coffee and forgot to put a cup under the tap." Voss handed him the key to the sunroom. "She's in there waiting for you, and you're still talking to me."
