Neither said much as they headed up the slight incline of the road behind Willowbury High Street that led to the back entrance to Holly’s shop and home. The moon was rising, giving them ample light to see by, and Charlie’s hand in hers was warm and dry. Again, she was reminded of that night so many years ago when they’d walked hand in hand through Covent Garden in search of a taxi or a Tube station back to her hotel. His palm had been clammy, then, as he’d seemed as nervous as she was about what may or may not happen after they’d reached their destination. Now, there was no such doubt. Both ached for this night to continue, both yearned for it, and both knew exactly where they wanted to be.

‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Holly asked as she pushed open the door to her flat.

‘No, thank you,’ Charlie replied. ‘Christ, Holly, I don’t want anything else except you.’

Holly laughed. ‘There I was thinking you had a problem with expressing yourself.’

‘Not so far as you’re concerned,’ Charlie said huskily. He kissed her forehead, then her nose and then found her lips again. ‘And I want you to know that I am very, very happy right now.’

‘I can see that, and feel it,’ Holly teased, to disguise how touched she was that he was being so open with her. This naturally guarded, instinctively rather reticent man was opening himself up to her, letting his defences down, trusting her. And she felt herself melting as she realised what a big step they were about to take. Pushing up against him so that his back was pressed against the wall of her stone tiled hallway, she groaned as she felt his arousal, and wanted there to be no more layers between them.

‘Come upstairs,’ Holly murmured between kisses. ‘And yes, I am sure.’

‘I’m glad,’ Charlie replied. ‘And for the record, I’m sure too.’

‘Good,’ Holly teased. ‘I wouldn’t want to be accused of doing anything without your consent.’

‘Consent given,’ Charlie murmured.

Breaking apart to negotiate the rather steep stairs that led upstairs, Holly felt as if every nerve ending was tingling with anticipation.

The moonlight shone through Holly’s bedroom window, casting her white bed linen in a silvered, ethereal glow. She wandered over to the window and threw it open, letting in the warm night air. She raised a hand to draw the curtains but then thought better of it; she wasn’t overlooked, and the light was so beautiful. Arthur, coat silvery rust in the moonlight, prowled the fence that separated Holly’s back yard from next door.