Page 23 of Secret Paths

Which is inconvenient, but not complicated.

Peter himself is not uncomplicated. He has just lost his job. He is worried, angry and trying to keep both hidden beneath jokes before Alexandra can take over. I care about that. More than I would like to examine while I am walking alone in the rain.

But the arrangement between us is simple.

He is attractive. He makes me laugh. He knows what he wants, and he does not pretend that one night in my kitchen has made either of us responsible for the other’s life.

Neither of us is looking for more.

That is ideal.

No dating apps. No noisy bar where I have to make polite conversation with a stranger before deciding whether he can be trusted with the truth of my life. No explaining that my marriage ended because Karim and I realise we are better friends than spouses, then watching someone decide whether that makes me reassuringly mature or somehow suspicious.

No shifting my routine, my home or my plans to make space for somebody who expects a permanent place in them.

Peter has his life.

I have mine.

There is room for a few hours in between.

By the time I reach my cottage, that thought has followed me all the way through the gate.

I let myself in, switch on the light and hang my jacket on the hook by the door. My boots go on the mat, damp but not soaked. I have barely picked up the post from the floor when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Peter

You make it home?

I look at the screen.

Me

Just walked in.

The reply comes almost immediately.

Peter

Good.

Me

Is that concern, or are you checking I have not been carried off by a dangerous puddle?

Peter

I was very concerned about the puddles.

I smile.

I drop the post beside the fruit bowl. The cottage is quiet around me, warm enough now that I have shut the door behind me.

My phone buzzes again.

Peter

I keep thinking about something you said earlier.