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Patrick felt like a schoolboy playing truant as he arrived at the house. He was rarely at home mid-morning, and grinned at the thought of the hour he had stolen from his regular schedule. He knew Shelagh would be home. Wednesday was her laundry day. And Shelagh was nothing if not consistent.
Eager to spend some time with his new bride, Patrick slipped into the house. He passed through the hallway to the kitchen, but did not find her there. "Shelagh?" he called. The lack of response was curious; her coat and purse were hanging on the coat rack. Having no luck out in the garden either, Patrick turned to the stairs.
As he stepped on to the upstairs landing, the door to the bathroom opened. Patrick stopped stock still as he took in his typically neat and tailored wife. Shelagh stood before him, wrapped in an old discarded lab coat, her feet bare and head wrapped up in a scarf. Beneath the scarf, her head was misshapen and outsized.
"Oh! Patrick! For heaven's sake, you scared me to death!" she cried.
"Scared you to death?" He answered. "What on earth are you doing?"
"I'm cleaning the bathroom, it's Wednesday and—" she suddenly remembered her appearance, and flushed a fierce crimson. "Oh, Patrick, go away!" She turned back in to the bathroom and shut the door.
Stunned by the turn of events, Patrick shook his head to clear it.
"What are you doing home? You're never home now," Shelagh accused.
"I had a free hour. I was nearby, and I thought it would be nice to see you," Patrick answered, mildly put out by her reaction. "Shelagh, let me in."
He could hear her thinking and after a moment, she opened the door and peeked out at him. "I'm sorry, Patrick. You surprised me. I'm a mess. I wear your old lab coat to avoid spilling bleach on my clothes."
He laughed. "And your head? What's that about?"
Shelagh sighed. "It's hair curlers. If I'm going to wear my hair down, I set it first. I do it while you and Timothy are away."
Patrick gently pushed against the door. He felt Shelagh resist, then let the door swing open. "So why are you hiding, then?"
She rolled her eyes in embarrassment. "I look ridiculous. You have no idea the things women do to look pretty. I didn't want you to see me like this."
"Like what? The loveliest woman in the world?" Patrick had noticed that while the lab coat did indeed engulf her, beneath it she was not wearing a dress. "If you like, I can help you get rid of this ugly old lab coat." He began to undo the buttons, bending his head to her throat. He loved the taste of her skin there, and her sigh urged him on. Buttons out of the way, he pushed the coat over her shoulders to the floor. "See? That's better." His lips travelled up to her mouth claiming her lips in a sweet kiss as his fingers traced the outline of her throat. Breaking the kiss, he glanced up at the scarf. "We'll have to get rid of this, as well."
One by one the curlers fell to the floor, leaving a trail on the way to the bedroom. As they fell to the bed Shelagh decided, "I suppose I can just wear my hair up today."
"Mmhmm," Patrick agreed.
The next day, Shelagh dipped into her mad money and bought herself an electric curling iron.