Page 15 of All Yours

Robyn leaned into her friend’s embrace and exhaled slowly. God, she’d missed Wren.

The shop assistant interrupted them, holding a selection of clothes on hangers.

‘I love your style,’ she said to Robyn. ‘Wondered if these were your kind of thing?’ She displayed a long satin skirt, a collection of other handknitted tops, and a pair of black lace-up flat boots. Robyn exclaimed in delight and began examining them. They were all perfect.

‘Sold,’ she said with a grin.

‘And the coat’s on me,’ Wren said, picking up the blue coat and adding it to the pile by the till. ‘For all those birthdays and Christmases we’ve missed.’

‘Thanks, Wren,’ Robyn said. ‘Love you.’

‘Love you too, Robs,’ Wren said. ‘So glad you’re home.’

Robyn was exhausted. Fox had messaged her at five thirty to say that an online meeting was overrunning, so she’d taken the initiative, fed the boys and put them to bed at seven. Willow was weary so she’d brought the moses basket over and placed it in the corner of the kitchen, where she lay kicking her feet and watching the ceiling.

At last, she heard the office door open. She was suddenly nervous and her heart started to beat faster as she heard him coming along the corridor.

She’d been glad that she hadn’t seen him all day. It made things much more straightforward. Looking after two little boys that could be any two children, not necessarily his. She was there to do a job so that he could do a job, which meant that they would very rarely be in the same place at the same time. She’d relaxed into the house with every hour she spent there: familiarising herself with what went where in the kitchen, picking up toys in the lounge and folding laundry, which she thought would be fine until she found herself folding Fox’s underwear and felt the flush on her neck remembering how she’d pulled his shorts down once before. Just before they . . . She’d thrown the pants on the top of the pile and left the house for some fresh air. Now, she could slip away. She turned to leave and was startled to see him in the doorway.

He’d obviously been concentrating hard all day. His messy quiff was even messier than normal, and his expression lightly dazed, his checked shirt open over his T-shirt. He looked gorgeous. Goddammit. Correction. He looked like her boss.

‘Hectic first day back?’ she asked.

He nodded as if shellshocked. ‘Bit of a shock after six months off. Thanks so much for staying on. I promise it won’t always be like this. Stay for a drink? I feel like I need one to celebrate the fact that I survived.’

She blew a stray hair out of her face and found herself agreeing. Willow was happy in her basket, so why not?

‘Let me just kiss the boys goodnight and I’ll be down.’ She watched him leave the room, struck by the gesture.

A minute later, she heard him jog back down the stairs into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he grabbed a beer and passed it to her, before cracking another for himself. He took a long swig, then shivered and glanced outside into the dark.

‘Cold tonight,’ he said, bending to the open fire in the kitchen hearth. He tore up some newspaper, assembled the kindling and struck a match. At first the fire flickered softly, before bursting into life. Robyn cupped her chin on her hand, elbow on the table, to watch the fire. He pulled up the chair next to her, so that they both had a view of the flames. She could smell his cologne as his knee knocked hers accidentally under the table. He was so close.

‘So,’ he asked after another swig. ‘How did your day go?’

‘Good, I think,’ she said. She noticed his shoulders lower and realised it was probably pretty stressful for him, leaving his kids with someone else for the first time. ‘You should probably check in with my two bosses.’ He smiled.

‘But, in summary, George did his first tuck jump at trampoline club,’ Robyn said, picking the highlights of the day. ‘And Reggie got a star for his writing.’

‘That’s my boys,’ Fox said, with genuine pride, before sighing loudly and sipping his beer. ‘God, I’m glad the first day is done.’

‘Me too.’ Robyn clinked her bottle against his and rolled her shoulders. A moment of quiet settled on them, broken only by the hiss and spit of the fire in the grate.

‘There’s something special about a fire,’ Fox said eventually. He reached his hands out towards the blaze as if to feel the heat. It was really roaring now, mesmerising to watch.

‘It has such a natural power, doesn’t it?’ Robyn said. ‘It’s incredible. My favourite of the elements.’

‘My friend Walker’s got some stories as a firefighter,’ Fox said. ‘How it can destroy things in a matter of minutes.’

‘It can be used for good too, though,’ Robyn said. ‘In Japan, they have a fire festival called “Oniyo”. It’s all about driving out evil spirits. That quite something to see.’

‘When were you in Japan?’ he asked.

‘When I first went travelling,’ she said, counting countries on her fingers. ‘Japan, Bali, Australia, New Zealand. And sometimes,’ she continued, ‘even though it seems like a bad thing, a forest fire, it actually helps to regenerate the land, by releasing nutrients back into the soil. So it’s a fresh start for the earth.’

‘I’d heard that, but you just can’t help but think of all the damage that comes first, the devastation,’ Fox said.

‘But it’s needed to let things start again. Clear the ground, for new shoots and stronger roots.’ She smiled. ‘There’s one fire festival all about that actually, much closer to home. Imbolc. You might have heard of it?’