Evelyn Giles let the phone ring.
It was a Bank Holiday and there was no way she was going in to work. Not again.
From the kitchen window, the world outside was bright and sunny. The crisp, cool air wafted through the open window, floating the suggestion that spring was nearly over and the summer would soon be here. The blue sky, scattered with the merest suggestion of small, puffy clouds, hung like a great protective veil over the city and the cheerful sound of children playing drifted up from the park at the foot of her apartment block.
As the phone shrilled from the lounge, Giles continued to beat the cake mixture in the large ceramic bowl, trying to make as much of a racket as possible so as to drown it out altogether.
But the phone continued with persistence and soon, as the interruption reached its limit, Jason emerged from the bedroom and shot across to pick it up. The stocky, thin figure of her husband arrived at the telephone long before Giles’ reacted to tell him to stop. As he stood, speaking with whoever was on the other end, Giles began to regret not taking it off the hook earlier.
Will I never learn?
Her eyes levelled on Jason’s back. Water from the shower dripped delicately off his bronzed back, disappearing into the neat white towel around his waist. As he talked on the phone, Giles smiled to herself as her eyes continued down to his bare legs, promising herself that she would follow when he went back to the shower.
When he turned around, the idea was shattered.
‘Eve,’ he called out. ‘It’s important.’