Morocco had been good, but now she wanted nothing more than to hole up at home with Devan and Riley, stay in the safe confines of the village with a few close friends. Physically, she was always tired, these days, often the victim of headaches and sleepless nights. Jared had made her feel young at first. Now, because of him, she felt so much older than her years.

The house was lovely and warm when they arrived home. Jill had been in to turn the heating on. She’d left milk in the fridge with a shepherd’s pie from a local home-made range and a bag of salad. The note on the kitchen table said, ‘Welcome home. Brunch at ours in the morning? We’re keeping Riley for ever, btw! xxx’

Connie laughed. ‘Sounds like that dog’s been on a charm offensive.’

Devan yawned. ‘Let’s get the pie in and have a glass of wine. I’m starving.’ It was a long time since breakfast at the hotel, the sandwiches on offer on the plane spectacularly unappealing after the delicious food they’d been enjoying in Marrakech.

They ate mostly in a companionable silence, both tired from the journey. Connie kept glancing at her husband, checking his demeanour to see if, now they were home and in surroundings that might spark a bitter memory, he would continue to be relaxed. But she couldn’t detect any sign of tension in his tanned face, so far. In fact, she thought he looked better than he had for a long, long time.

Coming out of the bathroom later, toothbrush in hand, Devan said, ‘Did you hear that?’

Connie frowned. ‘No – what?’

‘I thought I heard a thump.’ He pointed his toothbrush to the ceiling, above which was the attic, used exclusively for storage and accessed by drop-down steps from the landing ceiling.

‘It’ll be the wind. The window up there’s always been loose and it’s blowing a bloody gale outside,’ Connie said, as she got into bed.

He shrugged, went back into the bathroom. When he slid in beside her a few minutes later, he was looking preoccupied. ‘Maybe we’ve got mice,’ he said. ‘I’ll go up and check in the morning.’

They lay together, Devan tucking his length into Connie’s curled body, his arm across her shoulders. He dropped a kiss on the side of her head. ‘That was a great holiday, Con,’ he said.

She turned her face to his. ‘It really was.’ She snuggled into her soft, familiar pillow, wrapping the duvet cosily round her neck, aware of the comforting warmth of Devan’s body. She sank into sleep with a deep sense of contentment, gratitude for her husband, and her life.