Del pondered the mysteries of life. Now she and Vince finally had a temporary place of their own and perfect privacy, she’d gone all shy. On the drive over Del had imagined them tearing each other’s clothes off the minute she stepped inside, barely reaching the bedroom before they were in the throes of passion. But when Vince offered her a bunch of flowers picked from the garden on her arrival, she hadn’t even kissed him. Instead she’d accepted them with almost formal thanks and fussed about in the cupboards for a vase.
And so much for baked beans. Vince had served up an excellent chicken parma, complete with chips, salad and a cheap but quaffable shiraz – a meal worthy of any country pub. Afterwards, they sat together on a chintz-covered couch on the porch. Drinking wine. Dousing themsel
