LITMIR.BIZ

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head resting on my thigh.

      ‘Nothing.’ He hung the shirt up but his hand hovered before moving on to the next.

      ‘Come on. There’s obviously something. You’ve been flying through the rest of the stuff.’

      ‘Nothing. It’s stupid. Really.’

      ‘I’m sure it’s not,’ I replied. ‘Tell me.’ I tugged on his jeans leg for emphasis and he glanced down at me.

      ‘Should you be sitting on the floor?’

      ‘Pardon?’

      ‘I just…you always look so nice when you come here and then you go scrambling up into cupboards or plop yourself down on the floor. Shouldn’t you be in jeans or joggers or something?’

      ‘I’ve never met a cupboard I couldn’t tackle however I’m dressed and I prefer this for work. Now, stop changing the subject.’

      He tipped his head. ‘Huh. You caught that, then?’

      ‘I did. And I’m still waiting. What’s the story behind the shirt?’

      Michael flipped the sleeve of the shirt. ‘It’s the one I wore on my wedding day.’

      Oh.

      ‘But I shouldn’t throw out a perfectly good shirt just because of that, should I? I mean, I could wear it any time.

      ‘You could, you’re right. The question is, will you and more to the point, do you want to?’

      ‘I do like it.’

      ‘Well, maybe you can give it a new association. Put it on when you’re doing something nice, going somewhere special. But if you’re always, in the back of your mind, going to associate it with something that no longer makes you happy, then it’s like we talked about with the curtains – it’s that first feeling you get when you see something. It has to be a good one, not ambiguous and certainly not bad.’

      I tipped up onto my knees and Michael automatically put his hand down to help me up. Pilot whined.

      ‘She can’t act as your pillow all day, you lazy mutt.’

      Pilot let out a resigned sigh and slid into a seated position by the door.

      ‘I can see he’s regretting moving out of the kennels. Poor, hard done by dog.’

      I grinned, shaking my head.

      ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am you decided to take him.’

      Looking down at me, Michael laughed. ‘You don’t need to. You’re practically bouncing up and down. Are you always this happy when a dog gets rehomed?’

      ‘No. I mean, yes! Yes, of course I’m thrilled! It’s just that some dogs really get to you. The moment I saw him, I fell for him.’

      ‘So basically you got me to take him just so you could come round and cuddle him?’

      ‘No,’ I laughed, batting his arm, ‘he was perfect for you. And you know it. Otherwise you wouldn’t have taken him, no matter what I thought.’

      He gave me a look.

      ‘It’s all right. I’m not offended!’

      ‘Really. A woman who doesn’t go into a huff if I don’t agree with her?’

      ‘I can’t promise that every time, but on this occasion…’

      Michael nodded. ‘Then I will take that.’ He turned, took the shirt off the rail and put it on the donate pile.

      ‘Sure?’ I asked.

      ‘Absolutely.’ He bent and gave his new companion a tickle. ‘New start for everyone.’

      ‘OK, then let’s get this stuff put away.’

      Michael checked his watch. ‘Don’t you have to be getting ready?’

      ‘Oh no, I’ve got ages…’ He put his wrist in front of my face. ‘What?’ I said, grabbing his arm. ‘How did that happen?’

      ‘Time flies when you’re having fun.’

      ‘Oh gosh! Are you sure you don’t mind me getting changed here? I can do it at the station, it’s no problem.’

      ‘I think that might cause a stir.’

      ‘In the loos. Obviously.’ I pulled a face at him.

      He took my hand and led me out into the hall before bowing before a door, waving an arm. ‘The guest bathroom awaits, m’lady.’

      ‘You’ve gone from grumpy to bonkers.’

      ‘Normally I’m a little of both.’

      ‘Well, that’s better than a lot of the former.’

      ‘Point taken. Now go and do what you do or you’ll be late for Colin.’

      Opening my mouth to correct him, I caught the twinkle. I narrowed my eyes at him and he quirked an eyebrow at me, before I closed the door, trying to stop the smile that desperately wanted to play on my lips.

      Smoothing down my dress, I gave a last check in the bathroom mirror. I couldn’t get over the feeling that it would be odd to take a shower in Michael’s house, despite the fact that he’d sweetly left everything I might need laid out, just in case, so I’d had a quick wash instead and then set about redoing my make-up and unpinned my hair. Brushing it out, I hooked one side behind my ear and told myself that would have to do. The shoes I’d worn over were a good match to the dress which had saved me lugging another pair around after Calum’s short notice arrangements.

      I left the bathroom and headed to the stairs, stopping as the sound of music caught my attention. If my many hours of listening to Classic FM had taught me anything, it was Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, one of my favourite pieces. Sliding my hand along the banister, I slowly descended the stairs, knowing by now which creaked and which didn’t. The sound got louder as I moved towards the living room. Quietly I stepped through the half-open doorway.

      Michael’s hands moved assuredly over the keys, his long fingers covering the chords easily and naturally. There was no music in front of him and his head was bent in concentration, his brow slightly furrowed. The light from the lamp to his side cast a shadow over his face, accentuating the high cheekbones and strong jawline, now ragged with overgrown stubble. To the side of the piano stool, Pilot laid contentedly, head on his paws, eyelids drooping as his master soothed him to sleep.

      I felt my breathing grow shallow, afraid to make the slightest noise and shatter the scene in front of me. The fact that Michael was playing after so long of not doing so made me feel joyous. It was moments like this that made me love my job even more. I was helping. But I felt instinctively, in this instance, there was something more. Something I couldn’t name or even entirely recognise. But I knew it was different. And I wasn’t sure what that meant. Or if it even meant anything at all.

      ‘Oh no! Please don’t stop,’ I said, as Michael looked up, his hands stilling over the keys as he saw me in the doorway.

      He shook his head, his half-smile almost bashful. ‘Bit rusty.’

      ‘No! No, really! It was wonderful. Honestly. That’s one of my favourite pieces.’

      ‘You play?’ he asked, closing the lid on the instrument as he stood.

      ‘Oh goodness, no. Sadly not.’ No point telling him that more than anything I’d wanted lessons as a child but that wish, like a whole bunch of others, never came true. ‘But I love to listen to it, especially “live” as it were.’ I immediately felt silly for doing the bunny ears and shoved my hands behind my back.

      ‘Well, Pilot’s not howling the place down so that’s something.’

      ‘I think he found it relaxing.’ I pointed to where the dog had now flopped onto his side and was gently

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