Stephen knew it was one of those moments he’d always remember. They’d talk about it when they were seventy; embarrass Charlie with the tale of it when he was old enough.

Then they heard an engine, and saw a pair of headlights bobbing and snaking their way into the quarry below.

Clarity

To her surprise and considerable delight, Catherine found Drew at home when the car Sunderland had organised dropped her off.

He wasn’t long in the door. She found him in the bedroom, unpacking the overnight bag he now didn’t need. His meeting in London had wrapped up early, and though he was supposed to go out for dinner with friends and crash at a hotel, he had enquired about changing his flight instead, and got lucky with whoever he spoke to on the BA desk.

‘With the boys at my mum’s overnight, I realised that if I could make the six thirty-five, with a fair wind I could be home by half eight and manage a quiet wee night in, just the two of us. Maybe phone out for a curry.’

She felt herself just melt. Frantic phone calls and a mad scramble just to have curry from the local takeaway when he could be relaxing in trendy bars then eating somewhere sophisticated in London.

She loved that about him: that he was impulsive, but only impulsive about her. Mostly what she loved about him rushing home like this, however, was simply that it was about him unquestionably still loving her, despite what a nightmare she could be.

She stepped into his arms, aching to be held. He would have been naturally expecting a kiss, but she just enveloped him, clinging on tighter and tighter, tears beginning to stream down her face. Drew was doubtless surprised (and probably a little chuffed) that his gesture was going down quite this emotionally, but he had no idea just what it meant right then, and nor was she telling him. Not tonight, and not until she’d got to the bottom of it. He’d only worry.

Eventually she pulled away enough to turn her head and give him his kiss, but he got a lot more than he was expecting on that score too.

Only moments before, she would have thought that the last thing she could manage right then was sex. She was so tense, so shaken, so angry, unable to keep a single thought for more than a few seconds. But as soon as he held her, she felt better, felt calmer, felt centred. And then she felt need.

They hauled each other’s clothes off: hurried, impatient, clumsy.

He made to go down on her. Another nice gesture, but not tonight. She needed him to fuck her. Sometimes what they did together she thought was best described as lovemaking: tender, delicate, selfless. Sometimes it was erotic, sometimes it was fun. This was fucking.