‘Maybe he was just having a laugh,’ Emily said, flopping down on one of the sofas. ‘Like food critics every now and then describing something utterly disgusting as the most wonderful thing they’ve ever put in their mouth. Like, what is the most horrible house he could design that someone would buy. Or that portrait you painted of that politician whom you didn’t like, deliberately making him look about two hundred years old.’

‘I was just trying to show the wisdom of his years etched into his face.’ He held the bottle facing safely away from her as he untwisted the wire.

‘Of course you were.’ She lay back and kicked her legs in the air. ‘Woweeee, this sofa is sooooo comfy!’

There was a massive pop and the cork flew out, ricocheting off the ceiling, the champagne squirting and foaming out as if the bottle had been vigorously shaken. He stared at it, startled. Over half the contents had gone by the time it settled.

‘Bloody hell!’ he said. ‘This is a lively one.’

Looking up, she said, ‘It’s made a mark on the ceiling!’

‘We should leave it there – our house-christening mark! Our forever home.’

‘I like that!’

He filled their glasses and handed her one. Then he picked up his and, staring her in the eye said, ‘Cheers, to our forever home.’

‘It’s going to be a very happy home.’

‘It is, my darling.’

‘No it isn’t,’ said a sharp female voice.

5

Friday 14 December

Both of them froze.

The voice sounded like it had come from the kitchen.

Emily stared at her husband, wide-eyed.

Jason strode through into the kitchen, where the command box he had set up earlier sat on the refectory table, the green light glowing, showing it was operative. The wall-mounted television was on, with some soap playing. A middle-aged man and a woman were arguing furiously.

He stared at the screen. Quietly attempting to pacify the woman, the man insisted, ‘I’m telling you, it is!’

‘No, it isn’t!’ she yelled back, at full volume.

‘Command!’ Jason said. ‘Mute television!’

Instantly, the couple continued their argument in silence.

‘Command! Television off!’

The screen went dark.

He went back to the living room, smiling with relief. Emily was standing near the front window, peering up at the command box speaker grille set into the wall, high up.

‘The wonders of technology,’ he said, looking up, too. ‘Our home command box with a mind of its own – it must have switched the television on. I’ll have a proper fiddle with it tomorrow – I think I tried to set it up too quickly.’ He picked up his glass and nodded at the ceiling. ‘That christening mark – right?’

‘Right?’ she said, quizzically.

He poured some champagne into his mouth, set his glass down on the glass coffee table, put his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers, gently releasing the bubbly into her mouth. Then he murmured, ‘Talking of christening the house, we’ve been here for ten hours now and we haven’t yet bonked.’ He ran his hands down her midriff, levered his fingers inside her jeans and popped the buttons.