Jill lay awake, griping the duvet tighter under her chin as she heard the front door open and moments later click shut again. She held her breath, straining to hear anything from downstairs that would indicate what the recently entered person was doing. She heard some shuffling, material moving against material, which she pictured as Gordon removing his coat and hanging it up, then a brief jangle of keys before being silenced on the small wooden table in the hallway. Then, the sound came to her of another door opening and shutting, which she guessed was the cupboard under the stairs when they kept their doctors' bags. She sound of footsteps reached her, gradually fading until they were no longer audible; he was obviously moving away from the stairs and deeper into the house. She fleetingly thought that perhaps he was going in search of her, but replaced it with the more conceivable idea that he was going to prepare a quick dinner.

Previously, she might have waited to have dinner with him, it not being particularly late hour. But like so many things, this was just one more thing about their domestic routine that had suddenly and inexplicably changed. Tonight, she'd had eaten with Tom and Katie, and made her way to bed at an early hour. The reason for this, ultimately, was to avoid her husband, and any of the heartache that might ensue if she were to meet him when he arrived home. She felt slightly ashamed of the cowardice of her actions; she had never been one to actively avoid unpleasant situations, nor was she one to openly admit, even to herself, that she couldn't deal with something, both of which she'd done tonight.

She broke off her thoughts as the floorboards of the stairs creaked, heralding Gordon's approach. Her back was towards their bedroom door but she closed her eyes, and clutched the duvet to her again, hoping to hide the slight trembling that had started in her hands and was steadily spreading through her entire body, and instead appear deeply asleep.

He entered, closing the door softly behind him, and flicked on the lamp on his bedside table, the glow it cast around the room visible through her eyelids. She lay still, simply listening to the rustling of his clothes as he changed, then left the room. She waited a few seconds until she heard the click of the bathroom light before twisting to look behind her, seeing a pile of his clothes neatly folded on the chair in the corner of the room.

She quickly turned back again and snapped her eyes shut as the light clicked again and moments later Gordon re-entered the room and got into bed behind her. A sharp draught of cold air met her back as the duvet was raised, but disappeared as he drew it around him. If anything, she was warmed, the heat from his body travelling the short distance to meet hers. Despite this, she knew, as he turned off the lamp and plunged the room into darkness, that she wouldn't feel his body against hers, wouldn't even feel the touch of his hand.

In the darkness, she opened her eyes, only to allow numerous tears to escape. She sniffed, to which there was no sign he'd heard. She wondered what he was thinking or feeling. Did he hate every minute he had to spend lying next to her? She was tempted to speak up, in an attempt to gauge any indication from his response, but the words refused to form. She was simply too afraid of what she might discover, and what it might mean for her future with Gordon.