She shoved her phone into her back pocket and hauled her battered leather weekend bag out of the car boot. The air was crisp, with hardly any breeze, and she could smell the salty tang of the sea. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind for a moment and just be. It was so quiet here. It surprised her every time. And so very, very dark. The inky blackness of the night sky was somehow instantly soothing. She shut the boot and locked the car. The porch light flicked on and as the door opened, a warm glow spilled out over the leafy path.

"Hey Laura….do you need a hand?"

As was her way, Ellen flittered around the kitchen, tending to a large pot of casserole, mashing potatoes, prodding the fireplace, whipping cream…all interspersed by snippets of conversation.

"And so I got here at 3 instead of 12…could you pass me that spoon please….and the dogs wouldn't settle for some reason….and the pepper…thanks….and…"

She trailed off, suddenly remembering herself, and turned, looking at Laura apologetically,

"…and I haven't even asked you how your trip was!"

Laura smiled warmly, simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated by Ellen's babble,

"It was fine."

"You got here earlier than I expected…"

For goodness sake, I don't drive that fast…

"Traffic was clear, just got lucky"

Ellen eyed her knowingly,

"There's something you're not telling me"

It always took Laura by surprise, how easily Ellen could switch like that. From a whirlwind of chatter and superficiality to a measured, razor-sharp observation. It was far too easy to forget how good a psychotherapist she was. Laura merely raised an eyebrow and adopting her most Sphinx-like expression replied,

"So, what's a girl got to do to get a drink around here?"

Laura knew her friend wasn't convinced, but she was too clever by half to tackle her sober. When it came to secret confessions between friends, professional conduct be damned, Ellen played dirty. As she rummaged in her makeshift wine cellar - a couple of old crates set on their side in an alcove - Laura felt the phone in her pocket vibrate gently. Robbie.

"What do you fancy? I've got some nice Tempranillo…or there's a white Burgundy"

"Red would be better with the casserole, I guess…um…I'll just put my stuff upstairs while you decide"

Robbie had been parking the car when her text beeped through. It was just coming up to eight o'clock and he dreaded to think how fast she must have driven to get there already. Still, it was better that she had just concentrated on getting there rather than winding herself up talking to him. He sighed and switched off the engine, before turning to his passenger,

"Right Gray, don't take all bloody night…get me one of those posh pasta salad things, anything without prawns…and a can of Coke"

"You're not coming in with me, sir?"

"Nah…be quicker if you go, I need to speak to Innocent again"

The lad took the proffered ten pound note and started off towards the glowing lights of the supermarket entrance. Robbie sat back heavily, rubbing his hand across his face. He was knackered. They'd nearly finished the paperwork for Faulkner, but they would need at least another hour or two to process the statements from the mortuary staff. Gray's rumbling stomach had started to put him off the file in front of him at around 7.30, and he'd taken pity on the lad, suggesting a quick refuel before the final stretch.

He'd lied about Innocent, of course, but he wanted a moment to himself. To think. He'd been hurt earlier by Laura's breezy comment, he couldn't deny it. But it had been coming and he'd been naive to think that the whole mess with the twins wouldn't come back to haunt him. Sooner or later, she was going to ask. He didn't think that this had been her intention earlier…she'd just said it by accident…but she would ask. And she deserved an explanation. He'd kept clear of her for weeks after that night, and if he was honest, he'd only gone to the funeral because Hathaway had told him to. He wasn't entirely sure he could explain it to himself…but he'd have to try.

They were so different. He liked that. He admired her confidence, her determination, the way her temper flared so quickly, and the way that she would laugh so freely when he made a joke. He liked her seriousness, how she could tease out a problem, the way she kept just a little of herself back from other people. But this evening all those things had conspired against him and he'd felt suddenly vulnerable. She drove like a teenage boy at the best of times, and he'd heard the irritation in her voice immediately. He knew she'd be fine…she was as skilled behind the wheel as he feared she probably was with a scalpel…but the last thing he wanted was to distract her, to upset her. He'd been short with her, cutting her off like that, but it was for the best. Hopefully she wasn't too worked up.

He slid the phone out of his jacket pocket, and reading the message quickly, smiled to himself.

Laura ducked her head to avoid the low beams as she entered the little room at the top of the cottage, and chucked her bag on the single bed. She took the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, and set it deliberately on the low bedside table. It was cold in the room, as she'd expected, and she quickly shrugged off her leather jacket and sought out the heavy fleece that she'd packed. It was at least two sizes too big, but it didn't matter, they were hardly having a fashion parade. She discarded her boots and pulled on a pair of thick socks over her normal ones. The alert light on her phone was still winking accusingly. She pulled her legs up close to her chest and reached for it. It wasn't so much that she feared his anger…he didn't really get angry. Not like she did. If it had been up to her, they would have had it out, right there, on the A14, they would have talked about his reaction to her involvement with Ligeia, Peter, all of them… how much she had felt betrayed by him, she would have asked why it took him nearly two weeks to speak to her after…and they would have got to the bottom of it. It wouldn't necessarily have been pretty, but it would have been said. There was so much that wasn't said. It felt like there was an invisible wall still between them. She smiled ironically at how dreadfully cliched it was. Always she'd assumed their issues had been about Val. But no, this was entirely about them. The light flashed again, and she sighed. They would sort this, they had to. She just needed to get him to talk to her. Somehow.

She pressed the touchscreen and read the message. It was simple, and to the point, and she loved him for it:

"I'm not going anywhere Laura. Enjoy your tea…or what you posh Southerners would call 'dinner'. X"

It was late when she finally made it back up the stairs to bed, and she could hardly keep her eyes open. Ellen had made a wonderful dinner, as always, and they had spent nearly three hours curled up on the sofa putting the world to rights. She'd been accurate in her reading of the situation with Alec. Once again he'd played true to form and slunk off back to his boat, probably with a string of young women to keep him company. It upset her more than she let on to Ellen…she could see exactly where he was heading, but there was nothing that any of them could really do. And as for Ellen… She seemed ok. Laura never could understand how someone so brilliant at her job could be so unstable in her private life. Were all therapists were like that? Most of the conversation had been about her new clinic, her new colleagues. It was good, seemed like she might be moving on finally. Briefly she'd mentioned Ligeia, and Laura had reassured her that not only had she attended the counselling Ellen had recommended, but that it had been useful. The moment had passed, and she was pleased that Ellen had moved on to another topic quickly.

And so now she was wrapped up in bed, struggling to get warm, the phone weighing heavily in her hand. She had to call him, but, not for the first time, she couldn't decide what she wanted to say. It felt like she needed a strategy, but where Robbie was concerned, she was sorely lacking. It just didn't feel right to manoeuvre him. The phone buzzed loudly, startling herself from her thoughts.

"Hope you've had a good evening, I'm just turning in, bloody knackered, got a full day of interviews tomorrow"

Quickly she pressed dial, just acting on instinct rather than thinking, and he picked up on the second ring, his deep baritone rumbling a little,

"Ah…so you're not out on the town"

She smiled, lying back against the cool pillow,

"Nope…I'm freezing my tits off in a very cold bed"

He groaned,

"Don't give me images like that, woman…are you trying to finish me off?"

"Sorry…it's just very, very chilly here"

"I can practically hear your teeth chattering down the phone"

She giggled, curling up under the blanket,

"Next time I'm bringing a hot water bottle"

He yawned loudly, and apologised,

"Nope…next time, you're bringing me"

She smiled, silently thanking him for not bringing up their earlier exchange,

"No…next time I'm staying at home with you"

He smiled, but hesitated slightly, obviously trying to choose his words,

"You're ok, though? Ellen hasn't upset you?"

"No…I'm fine."

Again, he waited, and she sighed gently,

"I really am fine. I just…I'm sorry about earlier…I just wish we'd had time to talk properly…about, well…everything…before I left. It feels like there's a lot still to say"

She paused, wondering if she should continue, not knowing how he was reacting to her words. He took a deep breath,

"Laura… "

She smiled…he was tired, she could hear it in his voice, but there was such warmth in the way he said her name.

"It's gonna be ok…I don't have any dark secrets to hide from you…" he paused, considering his words carefully, "…I can't promise you that I'll always be able to explain why I behaved the way I did…or why I didn't do what I should have…but it's not because of anything terrible, I promise. I'm just an ordinary bloke and I make mistakes. When it comes to you, I've made a lot of mistakes…"

She nodded, oblivious to the fact he couldn't see her,

"You don't need to apologise, Robbie. It's just…"

"I know."

Her voice was quiet,

"You do?"

"Yes. And we'll talk properly when you get home. And then we can start to make some plans for the future rather than worrying about the past."

She smiled and raised an eyebrow,

"Plans for the future? Are you sure you're an ordinary bloke, Robbie?"

He chuckled, pleased that she'd caught the bait,

"Well…on Monday I plan to let you feed me a lovely slap-up dinner…then on Tuesday I plan to make you come on a bike ride along the Cherwell, even if you laugh at me the whole time….on Wednesday I plan to…"

Her laughter eventually cut him short,

"Ok, ok…I get the picture"

She yawned audibly and he asked the inevitable,

"Bedtime?"

"Might be a good idea…you?"

"Already there…"

"Bet you're not as cold as I am…"

He chuckled,

"Bad luck…next time you'll think twice about ditching me for your girlfriend"

"I…." She paused, racking her brains for a witty reply, but finding none consoled herself with a simple "Good night, Robbie".

He grinned, knowing, for once, he'd got her,

"Good night, pet…sweet dreams"