‘Such a kind thought. I’ll pour a glass of wine later on. I’ll probably need it after unloading this lot. I think I’m in for a long night,’ he said, nodding towards the numerous stacked-up boxes.

  ‘I must apologise. I didn’t know if you had a wife or a family, so I only addressed the card to you.’

  Marcus took the card out of the envelope and paused. He met my gaze. ‘There is no Mrs Bowman – it’s only me and Frank, and I’m sure you won’t be forgetting Frank in a hurry.’ Marcus grinned, nodding towards my mud-stained trousers.

  I wasn’t sure why but I felt the smile on my face begin to spread at the knowledge there was no Mrs Bowman on the scene.

  ‘You’re right, I certainly won’t be forgetting Frank in a hurry,’ I joked.

  Marcus stood up and propped the card on the mantelpiece while I finished my drink. Placing the mug back onto the tray I asked, ‘What brings you to this area then?’

  Marcus paused.

  ‘I don’t mean to be nosey,’ I added quickly, seeing a flicker of sadness in his eyes.

  ‘Work mainly and a fresh start,’ he answered, not giving too much away.

  ‘What do you do for a job?’

  ‘For the next few weeks I’m working at the department store – Bretton’s – in town. I’m covering for the manager, who’s having an operation.’

  ‘I love that store. It’s glorious at this time of year. The magnificent Christmas decorations, the music piping through the store… not to mention the huge Christmas tree at the double doors by the perfumery. Ann and I always say it’s Christmas once we’ve started our Christmas shopping in there. We normally spend a small fortune and end up enjoying a champagne lunch. It seems to have become a bit of a ritual.’

  ‘I don’t mind you spending a small fortune in the store over the next few weeks if that means a bigger bonus for me,’ he grins.

  I laughed.

  ‘What about you, Lizzie? What do you do?’

  I felt Marcus’s eyes watching me closely.

  ‘I trained to be a dressmaker, like my mum before me and her mum before that. When my two girls were born I became a stay-at-home mum. Now they’ve flown the nest I’ve begun to feel a little redundant and certainly have a lot more time on my hands.’

  ‘Do you still sew?’

  ‘When the girls started school, I began to make soft furnishings for people – you know cushions and curtains.’

  Marcus nodded.

  ‘And since the girls have left for uni I’ve started to design and make a few items of clothing. Usually my customers are word of mouth.’

  ‘You sound like a very talented lady, Lizzie.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ve been toying with the idea of trying to expand the business. Maybe advertise more and see if anything comes my way.’

  ‘Why not? It sounds like a perfect idea.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I replied before thinking about what I was saying.

  The sadness in my voice must have startled Marcus. His eyes locked with mine for a brief moment.

  ‘Why aren’t you sure?’

  The truth of the matter is I wasn’t sure because Henry wasn’t too keen on the idea. I’d tried to broach the subject with him on numerous occasions, but he’d dismissed it. His reasoning was if I advertised for more business, then his weekends would be interrupted with clients traipsing in and out of the house. After working hard all week, Henry didn’t relish this idea, especially if the house was to be full of excited chatty women gushing over the latest cushion covers, or brides and bridesmaids that needed measuring and fitting for dresses.

  I’d even dreamt of owning my own sewing shop one day. It would be situated on the cobbled high street in town. There would be sewing machines, rolls of brightly coloured fabrics hanging from the walls and every kind of button you could possibly imagine. I could even run my own sewing courses. I’d love to teach a new generation of sewers how to patchwork, use patterns and make their own garments. However, my dream seemed too far out of reach at the moment.

  Not wanting to share Henry’s view on the matter, I said, ‘I’m no Savile Row,’ and laughed nervously.

  ‘We all have to start somewhere.’ Marcus smiled reassuringly.

  ‘I’ve always enjoyed baking too,’ I added.

  ‘There’s no denying you cook up a mean cottage pie, and I have to say it was the best meal I’d eaten in ages. Usually it’s a microwave meal for one, and if you’re true to your word and always cook more than you need, then I think it’s safe to say I’ve fallen on my feet renting a house next to you in the short term,’ he teased.

  ‘Ha!’ I smiled.

  ‘Maybe you’d let me return the favour one day?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Once I’ve settled in I’ll cook for you.’ Marcus gazed at me with a gentle expression.

  ‘For me?’ I replied, a little taken aback.

  ‘Yes, for you.’

  I came over all emotional and felt a sudden rush of affection towards him. Even though the gesture was such a kind one, I knew deep down it would never be possible. How would I explain that to Henry? Marcus might be a free agent, but I certainly wasn’t. I was a married woman with two grown-up children.

  Marcus must have read my mind. ‘Of course Henry is invited too,’ he added quickly.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ I answered with such sincerity. ‘I would love to, it’s just…’ I let out a long breath, knowing full well Henry wouldn’t agree to it.

  ‘You don’t need to explain,’ Marcus said, clearly embarrassed that he’d suggested it in the first place.

  For a brief moment we sat in silence and he held my gaze for a second longer than was necessary. ‘I’d best go home. I’ve got a million and one things to do before Henry gets home,’ I said, quickly standing up.

  Marcus stood up next to me. ‘Are you OK? Honestly, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.’ He touched my arm gently.

  I could feel the intense heat radiating from his touch, and I wondered if he’d noticed it, too. Feeling myself blush I nodded. ‘Yes, I’m fine, honestly you didn’t.’

  We were both startled by Frank’s sudden bark from the kitchen. ‘I’d forgot he was still in there,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘I’ll just let him out up the garden and I’ll grab you your dish from the kitchen while I remember.’

  Why was my heart racing while I watched Marcus wander out of the living room? If only Henry could be more like him, I thought.

  5

  I switched the radio on in the kitchen, but I was too distracted to even notice what song was playing. Last night I had lain awake for hours, Marcus’s words playing over and over in my mind: ‘We all have to start somewhere.’

  Saturday was like any other day for me, except that Henry was home too. Luckily for me he hadn’t ventured downstairs as yet, and I already had the feeling he would be avoiding me like the plague today. The first weekend in December I always liked to hang up the Christmas decorations and put up the tree. Looking up at the kitchen clock I saw it was approaching 8.30 a.m. I was always an early bird at the weekend, even though I was shattered from the 6 a.m. starts in the week. Truth be told I couldn’t lie awake in bed next to Henry, listening to his grunts and snores while he lay asleep. It drove me insane. I placed a couple of bowls on the table along with a box of cereal. No doubt he would rise in the next thirty minutes or so. I grabbed the milk from the door of the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table to eat my own breakfast.

  My phone beeped and Freya’s name flashed up on the screen. When they left for university I had insisted that Freya and Abbie message me at least a couple of times a week. They had protested at first, thinking it was a daft request, but when I waved each of them off and the unstoppable tears were streaming down my face, my appeal was granted. I knew they had to fly the nest at some point, but that didn’t stop me missing them both. I used to enjoy mealtimes; the constant chatter from Freya and Abbie kept me young. I loved to hear the general gossip of who was dating whom, I laughed at their latest fashions and on a Saturday night we would all snuggle under Freya’s duvet in her room and watch The X Factor – fabulous mother and daughter moments. Now when they weren’t here, I felt bereft – there was no other way to describe it.

  Reading the text, I smiled.

  ‘I’m fine! Don’t be worrying about me! We are going out to lunch with Peter’s parents today and I’ll be home very soon. Not long now!’

  Freya was reliable; she’d gotten herself into a little routine and she would text without fail every Saturday morning, then every Wednesday evening, just before the theme tune to Coronation Street started. You could set your watch by her. Abbie’s texts, on the other hand, were sporadic, and usually the only reason she would remember to text home was due to a lack of funds in her bank account.

  As I typed back a reply to Freya, I was suddenly aware of Henry’s footsteps creaking down the stairs – and sure enough the kitchen door was pushed open.

  ‘Good morning,’ I said as Henry parked himself at the kitchen table opposite me.

  ‘Morning,’ he replied, helping himself to a bowl of cereal while grappling with the newspaper on the table.

  He didn’t like to be disturbed while reading the paper, but it was now or never. I took a deep breath, my heart racing. I needed to ask the question that was burning inside me. ‘Henry, love, could you possibly bring the Christmas decorations down from the loft for me?’

  I waited anxiously for his answer.

  Henry stood up. ‘Huh, it’s not time for those again, is it?’ he grumbled, grabbing his van keys from the kitchen windowsill.

  What sort of question was that? It was December – everywhere you turned there were inflatable Santas and brightly coloured lights.

  ‘Yes, Henry, it’s December.’

  ‘I’m going into work. There’s overtime today.’ And before I could say anything else he kissed me lightly on the head and disappeared out of the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t forget I’m going out with Ann tonight, so I won’t be back when you get home from work,’ I shouted after him, but I don’t think he heard me as the front door closed swiftly behind him.

  ‘Fine.’ I scowled, seething with frustration while I opened the pantry door.

  ‘Men!’ I screamed at Gary, who took no notice of me whatsoever and smiled back in his usual calm manner.

  I took a deep breath. There was no point asking Henry for help – if I wanted something doing, the only person I could rely on was myself. I vowed this was the last time I’d ever ask Henry for anything. I used to wish we would squabble – at least then we’d be communicating – but now I didn’t even have strength for that.

  I collected his dirty bowl from the table and dumped it in the sink. The dirty dishes could wait. The only thing on today’s agenda was climbing up into the loft and dragging the Christmas tree in from the garage outside. I wasn’t going to let his bah-humbug mood dampen my spirits. I would create the perfect home, even if it was just for me and the girls to enjoy once they arrived home.

  Looking out of the kitchen window, I watched Henry’s van hurtle up the road then flicked my gaze over towards next door and spotted Marcus, which instantly lifted my mood. His attire was extremely smart: he was dressed in a blue pinstriped suit, his shoes were polished and he looked very handsome. I didn’t think he was starting work until Monday, but he was definitely going somewhere important dressed like that. He threw a bag onto the back seat of the car, slammed the door shut and then looked at his watch. Leaving his front door open, he disappeared back inside for a moment or two and then started heading straight towards my front door.

  I moved away from the window quickly, my heart pounding. I fumbled with my apron, untied it and threw it over the kitchen chair, then fluffed up my hair and risked a tentative look in the kitchen mirror to check my appearance. I really wished I had made more of an effort this morning. I felt very self-conscious dressed in my scruffiest clothes waiting for the knock on the front door. Even though I knew the knock was coming, I jumped. I hovered for a moment behind the door before opening it.

  ‘Good morning,’ Marcus said, smiling.

  ‘Please excuse me, I look a mess!’ I apologised immediately. I had no idea why I felt the need to draw attention to my appearance.

  ‘What’s up with it?’

  ‘Cleaning day for me – I’m in my scruffs.’

  ‘You look absolutely fine to me,’ Marcus said, smiling. ‘Lizzie, I’ve got a bit of a favour to ask you. Please feel free to say no, I feel a bit cheeky asking,’ he replied.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Are you at home today?’

  ‘Yes, I’m hoping to finish a pair of curtains I’m in the middle of sewing. Why?’

  ‘I’ve been called into the store today. It was unexpected and I’ve not had a chance to sort out a dog sitter yet with the move and all that. Is there any chance if I left you a key,’ – he hesitated – ‘that you could go around about midday to let Frank out up the garden?’

  ‘Hmm, now that is a big ask.’ I grinned, but secretly I was pleased he wanted me to help him out.

  ‘Don’t feel obliged – although, that said, coming home after a hard day’s work to clean up animal mess is not my idea of fun, so I would be so grateful.’ Marcus looked hopeful.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Emotional blackmail now, is it?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Marcus’s eyes twinkled as he dangled the front-door key in front of me.

  I bit my lip thoughtfully then grabbed the key from his hand. ‘Go on then, only because it’s you.’

  ‘Well if you finish your sewing early and have a little time on your hands, you could unpack a few boxes and whip the hoover around too – that would brighten up my day no end.’ He shot me a cheeky look.

  ‘Hmm, now you are pushing your luck, Mr Bowman!’

  ‘Back to formal names – it must be serious. I’ll disappear before you change your mind. That’s the spare key. Will you push it back through the letter box when you’re done and thank you.’ He waved himself off then turned around and breezed up the path towards his car.

  Leaning against the door frame, I folded my arms and beamed. I felt a rush of warmth towards my new neighbour. It had only been a matter of four days since he’d moved in next door, but Marcus Bowman was on my mind all the time. He was a distraction – and a very welcome one.

  6

  It was midday when I turned the key in the lock of Marcus’s front door and my heart was pounding. Quickly I glanced up and down the cul-de-sac to make sure no one had spotted me entering his house. I was feeling a little apprehensive but couldn’t quite put my finger on why. It was silly really – it didn’t actually matter whether anyone had seen me entering the house. Marcus had asked me to do him a favour and that’s all there was to it.

  As I pushed Marcus’s front door open, my phone beeped. I read a text from Ann:

  ‘Be ready for 4 p.m. Christmas markets here we come and wrap up warm.’

  I smiled at the text. Ann would go through the same routine every time we went out. She’d declare she was driving, then change her mind and say she’d have a couple of drinks, only to drink every beer, wine and gin cocktail available and stagger home drunk. My phone beeped again. It was Ann.

  ‘P.S. I’ll drive.’

  I chuckled to myself.

  Closing the door behind me, I heard a woof from Frank, who quickly appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. His tail began to wag, and he came bounding up the hallway towards me, his paws clattering along the wooden floor.

  ‘Hello, boy, I’ve come to let you out,’ I said, bending down and ruffling the fur on the top of his head as if he was a small child. Frank stretched out his two front paws, lowered his body then barked; he was clearly in a playful mood.

  Hearing the sound of voices coming from the kitchen, I was startled for a moment. My heart began to beat fast and furiously then I realised Marcus must have left the radio on to keep Frank company. Calming my breath, I muttered, ‘Silly Lizzie,’ to Frank while patting his back. He bounded towards the back door and then sat patiently waiting for me to open it. I turned the key, and he pushed past me and gambolled into the garden. I closed the door behind him, keeping the warm air inside.

  Glancing around the kitchen, I was surprised to see there wasn’t an ounce of clutter. It was absolutely spotless. I don’t know what I was expecting, but Henry always seemed to leave everything in piles on the kitchen worktop, and eventually I would end up putting it all away in its rightful place. The only thing that rested on his worktop was half a bottle of red wine, a set of mugs, tea, coffee and sugar canisters and the kettle, which was a bonus because I could murder a cuppa. I filled it with water then flicked the switch and waited for it to boil. I peered out of the kitchen window, which looked out over the back garden. I didn’t know how long to leave Frank outside, but he was currently sniffing beneath the evergreen conifers that separated the border between Marcus’s property and his neighbours on the other side.

  Opening the fridge, I took the milk from the side pocket and stared inside. I was a little curious to see what the contents of a single man’s fridge looked like. There were a few fresh ingredients scattered on the middle shelf, diced beef, carrots, onions and mushrooms, and on the top shelf were numerous microwave meals for one.

  ‘Hmm, well at least he’s done a little bit of shopping for himself,’ I murmured. Looking at all the fresh stuff in the fridge my mind went into overdrive.

  I tucked my hair behind my ears while I stood in front of the fridge and pondered. Would Marcus mind if I whipped him up a beef bourguignon? Would he think I was being intrusive?

  I ferreted about in his kitchen cupboards until I stumbled across a slow cooker. ‘Perfect,’ I murmured, plugging it into the socket after deciding Marcus would probably be starving by the time he returned from work and grateful there was a meal waiting for him.

  I peeled and chopped the carrots and onions and tossed them into the pot along with all the other ingredients. Whistling away to the radio, I poured in the rest of the red wine and gave the pot a stir with the wooden spoon I’d found in the drawer. I smiled as I placed the lid on top.