‘Perfect for me,’ Finch replied. He was at the counter, where he’d neatly lined up four squares of buttered brown bread, which he was layering with slices of Cheddar, lettuce and pickle.

‘Shame it’s such a rubbish day.’ Romy glanced out of the window. It was one of those still, grey winter mornings, where the damp air just hovers, as if it has nowhere better to go.

‘Won’t matter,’ Finch said contentedly, as he packed the sandwiches in greaseproof paper and placed them in a Tupperware box, then in his black daypack. ‘Do we need anything else? Apples, maybe?’

‘Good idea. And Maureen always brings slabs of her delicious gingerbread.’ Romy splashed milk into the Thermos, then swished the teapot a couple of times before pouring in the tea and screwing down the lid. She smiled to herself, surprised at the pleasure she found in sharing these simple domestic tasks with Finch.

He had arrived the previous Saturday evening. Seeing him, after their weeks apart, felt very different now. Romy was no longer insecure about his intentions, or hurt about the past, and welcomed him with a delighted hug, like a returning lover back from a short trip away. Because now she felt she really knew the man who walked through her cottage door – knew him so much better than before.

The intimate chats they’d shared on all those evenings since Finch’s departure for Derbyshire – when they’d talked about everything from their childhoods to Nell and Grace, Michael, their hopes for the future – had given her a much deeper understanding of him and only served to strengthen her feelings.

They hadn’t rushed to make love that first night, as they had on previous occasions. They’d just been content to be together again. Romy made beans on toast and they sat on the sofa in front of the flickering wood-burner with a glass of wine, Finch’s arm around her shoulders, saying very little. There was an atmosphere between them that was fragile but also full of quiet joy, which both had wanted to savour. Obviously it would take time properly to dissolve the tensions that still lurked – with Grace, with Leo – but the logistics of how they would meld their lives and bring their two families together could wait until another day.

When they did finally make it up to bed, and Romy had felt Finch’s naked warmth close against her, she’d let out a long sigh of happiness.

Now, she handed the Thermos to him and watched him fit it into the daypack. He smiled at her as he zipped it up, and in that moment her heart felt so full she wondered if she might actually be glowing. An energetic morning clearing bracken in the cold air; Thermos tea and gingerbread on a damp log; like-minded friends … Finch. This is who I am, she thought. And this is where I want to be.

Acknowledgements