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Tuesday was her weekly night for visiting her mother, and she always chose to play safe and avoid public transport at this time of night.
Devon knew not to expect her any earlier, having been present many times when her mother had launched into a full friends and family update, which was more like a military briefing but filled with information that she didn’t need.
Somehow her mother had become the nexus of the wider family since Stacey had moved out. Cousins Stacey didn’t even remember now visited her mum for a cuppa and a catch-up, thereby giving her the scoop on all the family gossip.
There was something comforting in sitting in her old childhood home, doing nothing but listen as the family shenanigans were relayed to her. The whole process washed away the day at work, and brought her home cleansed and revitalised. And much as she loved that time with her mum, there was nothing like letting herself into her own home where her own wife was waiting for her.
A smile plastered itself to her face as she removed her jacket. The haunting sounds of Enigma could be heard from the kitchen, where the only light in the flat burned brightly. An array of aromas greeted her, making it impossible to guess what Devon had been cooking. One scent that she could detect was the Yankee festive Christmas candle Devon had received as a gift; with 150 hours’ burning time, it was still going strong in March. Devon cared nothing for the fact that the season was long gone. She liked the smell of berries and birch and eucalyptus that filled the flat every time she lit it.
‘Hey, babe,’ Stacey said, stepping into the kitchen. Every surface was covered with plastic containers, mainly recycled after Chinese takeaways. The roll of stickers and a marker pen lay on the kitchen table ready for the labelling process.
‘See anything you fancy?’ Devon asked with a wicked smile.
‘Yep, but it isn’t in any of those containers,’ Stacey responded as Devon moved towards her.
They shared a long kiss before Stacey turned her attention back to the filled food containers.
Unlike her, Devon loved to cook. Her job as an immigration officer didn’t afford her lots of time to indulge, but on certain days off she would spend hours batch cooking some of their favourite meals, portioning and labelling them for the freezer.
‘Over here is lasagne, and that is chicken korma, pasta bake, beef casserole and lastly jollof rice.’
‘Really?’ Stacey asked, taking a closer look. Devon rarely attempted the cuisine of their heritage. Her two visits to Nigeria had barely prepared her to tackle it.
‘I got the recipe from your mum,’ she said with a shrug and a cheeky wink.
Oh that would have earned her brownie points, Stacey thought, taking a fork from the drawer. She dug into one of the containers for a taste.
‘Not bad at all,’ she said, nodding appreciatively.
‘Not bad?’ Devon laughed, swiping her with the tea towel.
‘Okay,’ Stacey said, defending herself. ‘It’s the best I’ve ever tasted.’
‘Something we definitely won’t be sharing with your mum,’ Devon said putting the fabric weapon down. ‘And what would be your choice tonight?’
‘Hmm…’ Stacey said, surveying the choices. Even though it was late, they tried to eat together whenever they could. Their shifts and long hours didn’t always allow it. ‘You know I’m gonna have to go with the lasagne.’
Knowing how much she loved it, Devon didn’t skimp on the béchamel sauce that oozed over the mince and pasta.
‘Wow, what a surprise,’ Devon said, heading for the freezer. ‘Go take a shower and I’ll warm some bread and pour the wine.’
Stacey paused and observed the scene from the door, wondering if this really was her life. A job that challenged and stimulated her and a home life that filled her with contentment and warmth. She was already anticipating good food and chilled wine and a couple of episodes ofDownton Abbey. They were late to that particular party, having not watched it while it had been current, but were now bingeing their way through it.
If only they could see us now, Stacey thought as she headed to the bedroom. Their colleagues were a mixture of hardened police and immigration officers, all of them used to dealing with the worst the Black Country had to offer, and here were the two of them spending their evenings watching period dramas. Yeah, that could stay within these four walls.
She removed her shoes at the bedroom door, ready to slip on the next morning, and padded across to the window. Although the bedroom was at the rear of the flat, there was still an alleyway that separated the building from the houses behind.
Devon loved reminding her that the pathway was gated at both ends, but as a child, Stacey’s bedroom had been on the front of the house and old habits died hard.
She reached up to pull the curtain across when something caught her eye; a slight movement.
A frown formed on her face as she focussed, trying to pierce the dense darkness. The house opposite had a motion sensor light that sometimes lit up their bedroom, and it had a wide enough beam to give decent illumination to the whole area. Great – when she wanted the bloody thing on, it was dormant.
She narrowed her eyes at the spot where she thought she’d seen movement. The branches of the trees that lined the rear of the property were bare, but she still struggled to see through them in the darkness. She could just about work out what looked like a solid mass behind the middle tree, but by now she wasn’t sure if it had always been there.
Probably a cat teetering along the fence, she reasoned as she pulled the first curtain across.
The spotlight illuminated, lighting up the whole area in a ten-metre arc.
