She really fancied a night to herself.

She made a cup of tea, cut herself a slice of cake, carried them both over to the fire, and sat down on the hearth rug. A basket of logs stood to one side of the wood burner, and Abi opened the doors and tossed another log onto the already roaring fire. She gave a little shiver of pleasure. She really liked to be warm. She was going to enjoy the evening.

She leant back against the sofa, extended her legs in front of her, and took a large bite of cake. No sooner had she done that than the doorbell rang. Abi rolled her eyes and tried to swallow her cake.

“Come in, Chris, the door’s open!” she called, spraying crumbs in all directions.

After a moment the door slowly opened and a deep voice said, “I’m not Chris. Can I still come in?”