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On the third attempt Sally realised the reason her front door wouldn’t unlock was because she was using the key to her office. ‘Sorry, Priya, hang on a minute.’ She put her phone and bag on the floor and began searching for the right set of keys. Her hand located her “Don’t blame me, I voted Remain” keychain when the door swung open. Carl stood there, his expression pretty much the one she expected to see given she should have been home two hours ago. ‘Sorry,’ she pointed to the phone, ‘won’t be a minute.’
Carl turned on his heel. ‘I’ll warm up your dinner.’
Sally picked her mobile up. ‘Priya? Sorry about that. Yes, if we could move the surgery back an hour, I can make it to the lunch with the CBI. Does that work?’ She went into the flat, dumped her bag on the hall table and shrugged off her jacket. ‘Brilliant, you are a star. Enjoy what’s left of your evening. See you tomorrow. Yep, you too.’ Sally slumped against the wall. Like most people, she once had a healthy scepticism about how hard MPs worked, assuming it was PR claptrap for the benefit of their constituents. How wrong she was. It was only Tuesday and she was well on track for yet another sixty-hour week. Thank heavens for Priya. She really had hit the jackpot with her parliamentary assistant: smart, capable and energetic - funny too. Took on far more than her job description required and worked all the hours god sent. She heard Carl crashing about in the kitchen and went sheepishly through.
‘It’s vaguely edible.’ Carl placed a plate of microwaved cottage pie on the breakfast nook. ‘It was delicious two hours ago.’
Sally walked over and wrapped him in a hug. ‘I’m so sorry, honey. It’s a particularly busy time. I really did try and get away.’
It took a few seconds, but he hugged her back. ‘Eat your dinner. Wine?’
‘I’m assuming that’s rhetorical.’ Sally put her mobile on the counter, perched herself on a stool and sprinkled some salt and pepper on the meal.
Carl poured her a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and got himself a beer. He sat on the stool next to her and put a hand on her thigh. ‘Cheers.’ He lifted his bottle in salute.
Sally felt her leg tingle at his touch. She kept expecting this rush to subside, but it still felt illicit to be with him and a little unreal: he was her ex-best friend’s exish-husband. She raised her glass. ‘How was your day?’
‘Slept a bit. Watched some TV.’
Sally nodded, trying to recall the last time she was able to slack off. Not that she begrudged Carl his downtime, especially when she came home to this. In all the years she’d lived with Tom he had never once cooked her dinner or shown more than a passing interest in her day.
‘I was thinking I might go back to my flat tomorrow. I start early shifts the day after next and I don’t want to wake you at 3am.’
‘No, please don’t,’ Sally said through a mouthful of cottage pie. ‘I don’t mind. I’m hardly sleeping anyway.’
‘I know.’ Carl yawned. ‘That’s why I think it would be good for us to have a few nights apart.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was disturbing you.’
‘You give off these “I’m wide awake” vibes. Pretty hard to ignore.’
Sally attacked a glob of mashed potato with her fork. ‘Maybe for a few nights while you’re on earlies. Perhaps we can—’ Sally’s mobile rang.
Carl rolled his eyes.
‘Sorry, it might be important.’ Sally checked the caller ID. ‘Ugh, Tom’. She declined the call.
‘You have to speak to him sometime, you know.’ Carl got off his stool and pecked her on the cheek. ‘I’m gonna finish watching my movie.’
Sally saw the voicemail alert on her phone. She enjoyed the thought of her husband’s voice being locked in this tiny machine until she chose to release it. ‘Yeah, I know. But not tonight.’