Not wanting to answer, he pretended to fall asleep, real sleep following soon after.

* * *

The following morning, Will rolled over and reached for her, only to find a cold empty space beside him. He struggled up against the pillows and tried to massage a bit of life back into his aching right arm. He peered at the clock radio whose green digital numbers proclaimed it to be six thirty-five, so he flopped back down again.

For the whole of the previous week, Kate had adhered to their new regime. They enjoyed a morning snuggle at around seven o’clock, then they made tea and drank it in bed, planning the day ahead before they got up and showered. Today, though, she was back in her studio, and more than likely trying to make up for lost time.

Out in the garden, Will had been working for an hour or so when he heard the growl of an engine. He put down his hammer and saw an old battered white lorry pull up a few yards from their drive. His eyes narrowed. Everything about the vehicle shouted “cowboy.” It might just as well have been a covered wagon. Will was relieved not to have gone out this morning. This was not the first time he had had to save his wife from being ripped off.

He set off down the garden, but Kate was already coming out of the front door.

‘So glad you made it,’ she exclaimed happily. She turned to Will and called out, ‘This is Barry, darling.’

The young man extended a hand and bestowed a friendly smile on Will. ‘Pleased to meet you, sir. Nice ’ouse you have ’ere. Your wife said you’ve not bin ’ere long?’

His accent declared him to be a fens man, and he had a surprisingly pleasant voice.

‘Yes, we lived in Fenfleet before,’ Will said.

They went around to the back of the house.

‘So, Barry, what do you think of our dilapidated patio then?’ he asked.

‘Shouldn’t be too difficult to get it up, sir — it’s pretty crumbly to start with. We’d get a skip in to take away the ’ardcore but use a bit of it for the base of the new patio, that’d keep the cost down.’ He looked at Kate. ‘Yesterday you said you wanted the job done asap, Mrs Stonebridge. Well, we are really booked up for at least the next two months . . .’

Kate’s face fell.

‘But,’ he continued, ‘if the estimate is acceptable and you wouldn’t mind a lot of noise pretty early in the morning, we could start tomorrow. Thing is, I’d booked a couple of extra chaps for a big landscaping contract over Wainfleet way, but there’s a two-week hold-up on it, so rather than put them off—’