Breakfast

‘For Christmas one year,’ Jonathan says, ‘I bought six Tintin books and a box of Sante bars, and for three days all I did was eat chocolate and read and swim in the sea. —God I enjoyed it,’ he adds, after a moment's thought, and returns with gusto to his breakfast.

He is in constant movement; he is eating, talking animatedly, waving his fork around, all at the same time. His skin is clear and brown; the shadows that have been gathering around his eyes and mouth over the last few weeks have vanished. There is egg yolk in his hair. He seems completely happy.