By two, Laura was back home and beavering away in the kitchen. After leaving Robbie's, she'd driven to the supermarket for supplies, and had come back via the office to pick up the some of the lab reports she would need to really make a start on her paper. Although she certainly appreciated when she wasn't on call, Laura rarely drew a strong line between being at work and being on holiday. She enjoyed her research and she rarely had enough time to spend on it when in the office. With any luck, she could sort out dinner first and then have a few hours to check over some of the data sets.

An array of cookbooks was spread across the kitchen table, the result of her morning's other research, but in the end she had opted for the obvious. A curry, of course. She wondered when was the last time he'd actually eaten a proper curry and smiled. He was in for a treat. Her grandfather had served in India and he'd brought home a taste for curry that her grandmother had instilled in her own children. No one made a curry like Laura's father, and she'd spent many hours watching him cook over the years. She'd chosen beef, and planned to make some garlic naan bread before she started on her reading.

As she stood at the stove, frying off the onions, she pondered on how domestic this all felt. She loved to cook, and often invited friends over for dinner, but it was a long time since she last cooked for a boyfriend. Boyfriend. It still didn't feel right to call him that, she wondered if it ever would. It seemed faintly ridiculous and woefully insufficient. She added the chunks of meat to the pan and carried on stirring. It was nice, making something for someone else, and she felt herself relaxing, enjoying the routine. Ever since her trip to his house, she'd been thinking about the future, she couldn't help it. She knew it was premature, she knew she was jumping ahead, but still. How would this work? He couldn't keep staying over indefinitely, it just wouldn't be practical, but what was the alternative? Her mind was racing ahead now…would he want to move in? She simply couldn't imagine leaving her house, her garden…but was there space for him here? Would he even want to live with her? She smirked, chucking a handful of carefully selected spices into the pan. She wasn't exactly easy to live with, she knew that. She worked all hours, she hardly slept – the last few days had to be an exception – and she was used to things being done 'her' way. It wasn't that she was obsessive or anything, she just wasn't used to having anyone around.

She sighed loudly and rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead. It simply wouldn't do to keep getting wound up like this. It wasn't helping. She bit her lip, trying to concentrate on the large dish in front of her. It was beginning to bubble gently, and she turned the heat down slightly, before adding the coconut milk. The smell was deliciously evocative, and instantly she remembered her father sitting her on the workbench to watch as he prepared his curry. Her mother had disapproved, of course, leaving a small child so close to the sharp knives and temptingly vibrant red chilies, but she'd loved watching him cook. She should call him really, tell him about Robbie. She smiled to herself, knowing already his reaction. He'd be thrilled, and they would get on famously. Dad was well past disapproving of her choice of an older man, he'd just be pleased that she'd finally found someone to look after her. She heaped in another generous chili and wondered idly how much heat Robbie could take. Someone to look after her. Until recently that thought would have made her queasy. She prided herself on her independence, her individuality, the life she had made for herself. But it felt different with him. This morning she'd seen an entirely new side to him - one that she wasn't entirely sure how she would broach, when they sat down for dinner - but it had somehow made sense. Both of them had lives independent of each other. And that was ok. In fact, it was more than ok. Not something to be simply accepted, but embraced. He wouldn't want her to change, she was sure of that, just as she couldn't imagine asking him to be any less than himself. Looking after her didn't necessarily mean stifling her, they could look after each other.

The naan dough was proving next to the Aga, and the curry simmering gently with the lid on, so Laura peeled off her apron and flicked the kettle on. It was nearly three, and although she didn't want to ruin her appetite, the savoury perfume of the curry was starting to make her hungry. She turned the radio off, and padded through into the snug - as she rather romantically called her small back room - with tea and a packet of chocolate biscuits. It was dark at the back of the house, and the room had only one small, rather whimsical decorative stain-glass window. She curled up on the small sofa and wrapped a blanket over her knees. She loved this room, it was probably her favourite in the house, which was ridiculous because there was almost nothing in here. Although that was precisely its appeal. No landline, no tv, no computer (she was pathetically strict with herself about bringing the laptop in here), no music. Just perfect quiet and a large pile of reading. Some of it work, some of it more literary. An enormous heap of old BMJ issues teetered in the corner, the interesting articles long snipped out and filed for reference; and far too many National Geographics were lurking under the table. But she didn't really care about the ordered chaos, it was how she liked it. Robbie might very well organise his library by subject and author name - she'd almost giggled when she saw that - but there was no way he was making her tidy up her slightly eratic shelving. Besides, she knew where everything was, and that was all that mattered. She sipped her tea and carefully extracted another biscuit from the packet, promising herself that she'd only have one more. She was reading abstracts of other papers published on the same question, carefully highlighting the key references, marking up which data sets to look at more closely. She loved this stage of writing, the piecing together of the puzzle, the working out where her ideas might slot in. The actual drafting was hard work - she wasn't exactly excited by putting pen to paper - but the ideas bit, that was always fun. Add into the mix the very tangible fact that her contribution might one day translate into something of practical use to the living, and she was hooked. She wasn't really prone to over-thinking what others might consider her rather grim job, but she did like the idea that there was more of a point to her involvement than simply finding causes of death.

As she distractedly reached for another biscuit, her mobile rang from the kitchen. Please don't be a call out, not today, not tonight. She put the papers to once side, and strode purposefully out of the room. The name flashing up on the display was unexpected and made her smile,

"Hello you"

"Hey pet…how's your day going?"

"Fine…good…I was just doing some work actually"

"What are you like, woman…"

He laughed loudly, and immediately she felt a little defensive,

"It's interesting"

"I know, love, I'm only teasing. So…how's my dinner looking?"

She raised an eyebrow and wandered over to the stove,

"Mmm…it's looking substantial. I hope you're going to be hungry"

"I'm already starving…we didn't stop for lunch"

She tutted playfully, conveniently ignoring the fact that all she'd eaten since the previous day were four chocolate digestives,

"So how did it all go, have you charged him yet?"

"Aye, all done, just tying up the various bits before I go"

"Great…so what time should I expect you?"

He hesitated, and sighed,

"Well, that's the thing I was calling about…"

She paused, hand hovering over the lid of the pan,

"And I thought you were just being friendly…"

"Aw, I am being friendly…but we have a small issue with this evening?"

"How small?"

"Miniscule…"

"Go on then…"

Deciding the pan was too hot to risk, she went in search of a dishcloth.

"Innocent has invited me, James and you out for a drink once I've finished this last report. She's just dropped by my office to remind me, and I don't think she's going to let it go"

"And she invited me as well?"

Laura was surprised. She knew Jean Innocent a little, but this was the first time - save that bizarre evening after her concert, when they'd ended up drinking far too much gin in a local bar - that Laura had ever been invited out.

"Yep…she made quite a point of it…but listen, if you don't want to, don't worry, I can just say hi, neck me pint and make a swift exit"

She hesitated a moment, remembering with not insubstantial discomfort, quite how tipsy she and Jean had got that strange evening, and wondered not for the first time in the past few years what she might have let slip,

"No…no, it's ok. I'll come…"

"You sure?"

"Yeah…why not…but do you think we should, you know, say something?"

"What, like an announcement or something?"

He sounded faintly horrified, and she chuckled, switching the phone to her other hand as she carefully lifted the lid on the casserole,

"As amusing as that would be..."

Her voice was measured, still carefully considering the various pros and cons of the situation.

"It's alright, pet, I understand"

She paused, stirring slowly, trying to read his tone but failing,

"We should probably talk about it, Robbie…I just don't want to make anything difficult"

"I agree…it's ok. We've got nothing to hide, pet, but you're right, let's do this properly"

She smiled, wondering what 'doing it properly' actually meant for Robbie Lewis. She shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake her thoughts from the daydream, and set the spoon down on the side of the pot,

"So what time?"

"Jean's got a meeting until six, but I'll probably be finished sooner…"

"Are you meeting her there?"

"Yeah…I'll head down when I can. Hathaway's flight doesn't get in until 4ish, so we might miss him anyway…why?"

"Meet me at 5.30? That way I'll at least have a few minutes with you entirely to myself?"

She heard him chuckle, and the muffled sound as he transferred the phone to his other ear before he replied, his voice now low and slightly teasing,

"Honestly Laura, you'll have me all evening…and all night, if you want"

She smiled, biting her lip unconsciously,

"I'm counting on it…but still…"

"Hmm…I know. OK, 5.30?"

"Yes…which pub?"

"The White Horse"

"I'll be there…don't be late"

A/N Thank you for all your lovely reviews for the last chapter! Especially some of the people who haven't left them before - it's brilliant to hear what you all think :)

PS. We're nearly there with this story - thanks for sticking with it :)