A Spot Of Bother

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Jean rang David. The boiler was fixed and he had the house to himself again, so she dropped in on her way back from the bookshop.

She told him about the wedding and he laughed. In a kind way. “Oy oy oy. Let’s hope the day itself is less eventful than the buildup.”

“Are you still coming?”

“Would you like me to?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes I would.” She wouldn’t be able to hold him. But if Jamie and Ray had a row, or Katie changed her mind halfway through the ceremony, she wanted to be able to glance across the room and see the face of someone who understood what she was going through.

He gave her a hug and made her a cup of tea and sat her down in the conservatory and told her about the eccentric plumber who’d been working on the boiler (“Polish, apparently. Degree in economics. Says he walked to Britain. German monastery. Fruit picking in France. Bit of a roguish air, though. Not sure whether I entirely believed him”).

And good as it was to be talking, she realized that she wanted to be taken to the one remaining place where she forgot, however briefly, who she was and what was happening in the rest of her life. And it was a little scary, wanting something that much. But it didn’t stop the wanting.

She took hold of his hand and held his eye and waited for him to realize what she was thinking without her having to say it out loud.

He smiled back and raised one eyebrow and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”