‘Come on, Connor.’ Sally stood up and shrugged on her chunky-knit cardigan. ‘Lover boy will be here soon and we’ll only be in the way.’
He stayed put. ‘You’re kidding. I want to check him out, see if he’s good enough.’
The girls grabbed one arm each and pulled him to standing.
‘Thanks for coming round, both of you,’ said Lydia, leading the way to the door, and with a flourish of goodbyes, good lucks and don’t-do-anything-I-wouldn’t-do’s, they were gone and the only sound left was the whirring of the washing machine.
She brushed up crumbs from the lounge, plumped up the cushions; she hung all the washing on the airer next to the radiator in the hallway. And lastly she found a bottle of red and two glasses and lined them up on the kitchen bench top. She was exhausted really. Last night they’d barely slept, too enamoured by each other’s bodies as they discovered new layers to their intimacy, but she would stay up long into the night if it meant she got to spend time with Jonathan again.
When the doorbell rang her mouth felt dry, her palms sweaty, but the second she saw Jonathan she forgot about her nerves, and as soon as he was inside the house, he greeted her with a passion she remembered from the night before. They didn’t waste any time and kissing as much as they could along the way, made their way to her bedroom and it was only when they were lying down, the weight of him on top of her, that he pulled back and looked at her.
‘I missed you,’ he said.
‘You only saw me this morning for breakfast.’
‘That was hours ago.’ He kissed her neck, her earlobes, her collarbone. ‘I need reminding.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of how gorgeous you are and how lucky I am.’
He looked more serious now as she cupped his face with her hands and looked deep into his eyes. ‘I’m lucky too.’ It was a word she wouldn’t have used in a long time, but with Jonathan by her side the world didn’t scare her so much.
When they finally left the bedroom, Jonathan winced. ‘Your floors are freezing!’ Outside, the sun that had hidden behind the clouds had really given up and the only light came from streetlamps and passing cars. ‘Where’s my other sock?’
She found it on the landing outside the bedroom, and when she gave it to him he kissed her as though she’d given him much more than an item of clothing.
‘Hungry?’ she asked, heading downstairs, her hand behind her and holding onto his.
‘Starving.’
‘Indian, Chinese or pizza?’
‘You choose. I could eat all three, personally.’ His hands held her waist as they walked through to the kitchen and pored over the menus.
‘Let’s go for Chinese, I’m starving.’
‘Deal.’
*
As the months rolled on, Februrary came and went, and with March the promise of spring hovered in the air as the odd hint of colour popped up in flowerbeds in the park nearby. Jonathan and Lydia had spent much of the winter cosied up in her little house, taking brisk walks after work, driving out to the countryside at weekends. And Lydia had begun to feel settled, almost in a groove she didn’t mind being in this time. Anita sent the odd message but was very short in her explanations, which Lydia had come to understand meant there was nothing to report. Once or twice Lydia had thought about calling her up but the longer she went without contact, the more alien it would feel.
Lydia hadn’t been to see Theo since New Year’s Eve, since she’d said goodbye. She had days where she felt terrible for it and others where she accepted life had to go on. She wasn’t sure whether she’d stay away forever, but for now, it was what it was. She’d also told Sally everything about London and Melanie’s visit and she felt, for once, that she was beginning to get back on track.
‘I don’t feel like cooking tonight,’ Jonathan declared one evening after both of them had had a particularly busy day at work. ‘How about pizza?’
They’d begun to take turns at cooking and Jonathan revealed another of his many talents: the man could cook! Last night he’d made a sumptuous roast beef dish, served with baby peas, green beans and hassleback potatoes, and Lydia had made a lemon meringue pie for dessert.
‘Pizza sounds good,’ she agreed. ‘But on one condition…I make salad tomorrow. You’re feeding me up far too much!’
He pulled her to him. ‘What can I say? I love your curves, I don’t ever want you to lose them.’
She giggled and eventually pushed him away enough so she could grab the menu and they could agree on the toppings. They rang through the order and then bundled into their coats to walk the few streets to the pizzeria for collection. At least the rain had stopped and by the time they got home again, the smell wafting from the box was intoxicating.
Inside in the warm, Lydia took out the plates and cutlery. ‘Do the honours, would you?’ She indicated the unopened wine.
‘Your machine’s flashing.’ He nodded over to where the red light on top of the black box flashed insistently.
