*****
Michael
It’s dark, a frigid winter’s evening. James hasn’t come home from work yet and I can’t find Charlotte.
Where is she?
Having a bath maybe?
But the bathroom stands cold and empty.
Reading somewhere?
I try her study, the lounge and the dining room, still with no sign of her.
And then as I stop to flick the curtains closed in the lounge, there she is. Outside on the terrace, without so much as a jacket or a cushion, she hugs her knees as she sits on bare stone paving, staring into the dark.
She must be bloody freezing…
What’s this about?
Don’t rush it…
I make a couple of hot drinks, then venture outside.
She turns as I approach. I offer her a mug. “Hi. Mind if I join you?”
“Course not.” She sniffs. “That’s lovely. Thank you.”
“Hot nutmeg milk and dash of brandy. I
