Nigel
‘I’ve brought you a hot chocolate.’
‘Thank you. I’ll drink it indoors,’ he said, getting up and tucking the tartan rug under his arm.
‘I’ll take the blanket. You have the mug.’
His mother looked at him closely as they stepped back inside the house. ‘Do you think you should have a shave?’
‘Who’s going to mind out here?’
‘We might be in the middle of nowhere, but we have standards. You don’t want to look rough in tomorrow’s eclipse photos.’
‘That’s not until the afternoon. I’ll do it in the morning.’
‘You might be too tired in the morning.’
‘I’m tired now. I’ll be less tired after a good night’s sleep.’
She folded her arms. ‘Assuming you get a good night’s sleep.’
‘I’m not jetlagged. I’ve been over here for nearly a week, remember.’
‘I still think it would be better to shave now.’
‘Mother, I’m 49, not nine.’
‘I realise that. You wouldn’t have a five o’clock shadow if you were nine.’
Nigel sighed. Anything for a quiet life. ‘I’ll be back down in ten minutes.’
He could hear Tamsin reading her children a bedtime story as he walked past their room.
He’d have loved to do that more often with Sloane and Avery, but he was always stuck in the office, working late for reasons that didn’t feel important now.
Perhaps he could make up for that if they ever gave him grandchildren. You’re getting ahead of yourself, Nige.
Shaving might make him feel better. He found his wash bag and headed into his en suite. He lathered his face and made the first sweep with the razor. That was an improvement.
He was in the middle of the second sweep when something caught his eye in the mirror - a movement in his bedroom.
He turned around. A very familiar figure was putting a rucksack down in the corner of the room. She turned and smiled at him. She was looking dishevelled and tired, but she was definitely Helen.
‘What are you doing here?’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Lovely to see you too.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I didn’t want to wait until Tuesday, so I got on a plane, a train and an automobile.’
‘Sounds like the answer to a film quiz question.’
She smiled. ‘A coach was involved as well, but that would have ruined the joke. Are we going to carry on talking rubbish, or am I going to kiss you?’ she asked.
‘Are you sure you want to do that?’
‘Don’t try talking me out of it,’ she said, stepping towards him and kissing him firmly on the lips.