1
Pushing open the front door, I felt a warm satisfaction as I stepped into my hallway and flicked on the light switch. There was no post on the doormat – not even any junk mail for once. After kicking off my shoes I hurried into the living room and switched on the lamp, then drew the curtains.
It was good to be home after a hectic day at work. I loved my job as lead buyer at Rochester’s department store in Oxford Street, but the long days and the commute home to Borehamwood did take their toll, particularly in the winter months.
Thankfully, the central heating was on a timer, so the house was nice and toasty. It might be the end of March, but the month showed no signs of ‘going out like a lamb’ as the saying goes. It was cold, dark and miserable, and it had rained most of the day, too.
I switched on another lamp, then reached for the remote control which operated the flame effect on our electric fire. I didn’t need the heater – the radiators were doing a more than adequate job of warming the house up – but the glow from the dancing flames made me feel instantly cosier.
Remembering I’d left my shoes lying on the doormat, I hurried back into the hallway and put them neatly on the shoe rack, then hung up my coat and bag.
Glancing at my watch, I guessed I had about half an hour before Rory arrived home. It was Thursday night. Takeaway night. No need to cook or worry about what we were going to eat. Time for a quick shower to wash off the stresses of the day.
I was just towel drying my hair when I heard the front door shut. I wrapped the towel around my head and headed onto the landing.
‘Just had a shower! I’ll be with you in a minute,’ I called down the stairs.
Rory, who was hanging up his coat, looked up and smiled. ‘Pyjama time?’
‘How did you guess?’
‘I’m a genius. Coffee?’
‘Please. And dig out the takeaway menus. They’re in the?—’
‘Second drawer down. I know. You tell me every week.’
He disappeared into the kitchen, and I hurried back into the bedroom and finished drying my hair, then I ran a comb through it and shrugged on a clean pair of pyjamas and my slippers.
‘Wow, Kirsty,’ I said, glancing at myself in the mirror, ‘what a vision your husband has come home to this evening.’
But even though it was now the end of March, it still felt like midwinter in my mind, it was dark and I’d had a long day…
On the days he worked from home, Rory would see me arriving back from Rochester’s dressed in my smart work clothes, and in full make-up. On warm evenings, I’d change into a summer dress and we’d go outside to enjoy a glass of wine in the garden while dinner cooked. But at this time of year, I’d have happily hibernated. I was definitelynota winter person.
Rory had made coffee when I arrived downstairs. He looked tired, though still impossibly handsome.
‘Long day?’ I asked sympathetically.
‘As always. How was your day?’
‘Busy but good.’
We had the same conversation most days, I thought suddenly. We could have been following a script. It worried me a bit.
‘Did you find the menus?’ I asked, reaching for my coffee cup.
He picked up some leaflets and waved them at me. ‘Chinese, Indian, Thai or pizza?’
I considered the matter. ‘Mexican,’ I said at last.
He rolled his eyes. ‘You’re so awkward! I’ll have to go on the app then.’
Grumbling, he discarded the leaflets and picked up his phone, studying it for a moment before tapping the screen a few times. ‘As if I don’t faff around with screens enough,’ he muttered.
‘Sorry,’ I said, hiding a smile. Thursday nights were supposed to be our phone-free nights, but the image of burritos was in my mind now and our favourite Mexican place did things the modern way.
‘Only for you,’ he told me with a sigh. ‘Hey! Put that phone down!’
