She stood before the mirror, half-heartedly putting the final touches to her makeup. She turned, surveying her image from various angles, again, with no particular enthusiasm. She picked up the small glass bottle of pale coloured liquid, the scent reaching her senses as she dabbed a little on her wrists and neck. She replaced it on the dressing table and turned to face to rest of the room. It had been ages since she'd spent any length of time in their bedroom; she'd moved her daily clothes and makeup into the spare room when she began to sleep there. But this evening, she needed more than her ordinary cosmetics; it was the evening of the hospital ball.
She left the room, stepping delicately down the stairs, lifting her long satin dress slightly. The house was silent; Tom and Katie asleep in bed, the au pair reading in the living room, and Gordon... wasn't there.
His absence was, ultimately, the source of her weariness towards the whole occasion. She didn't feel the need to make herself look particularly different was her everyday smartness, there was no one she wanted to impress. The only opinion she cared about was her husband's, but she knew she would receive no comment from him. This was illustrated by their arrivals; she, from the house, and he, from the hospital. No longer did they do anything together.
She left the house, climbing straight into the awaiting taxi, which immediately pulled away, giving her no time to arrange her dress comfortably around her. They sped along with darkened streets, not surprisingly arriving at the hospital in record time. She paid the driver then climbed out. At least half a dozen other taxis were unloading people, all in smart dress outside the redbrick building. All taxis containing two people, all of them couples. She felt slightly self-conscious as she stood there, people milling around her all heading towards the same place. Nevertheless, she strode with purpose and confidence round the side of the building, through the ambulance bay and eventually into the courtyard in the middle of the hospital, now housing an impressive white marquee. Coloured lights were strung along the canvas, casting glows of various hues on their surroundings. She glanced around, trying to spot a glimpse of Gordon, not sure whether she actually wanted to see him or not. Seeing no sign of him outside, she stepped into the marquee. The same lights were strung on the inside, accompanied by flickering table candles, all casting a soft glow over the occupants.
She scanned the room, searching for the familiar build and stance of her husband. It took her two sweeps before the finally spotted him, stood the other side of the marquee. But even from that distance she could make out his hearty laugh in response to something Lizzie said.
She continued staring at him, taking in his apparel; black jacket, white shirt and black bowtie. She didn't even look away as he glanced in her direction. They locked eyes, recognition filled his features. He quickly turned his attention back to Lizzie.
Only then did she look away.
