Patrick Turner had gotten used to coming home to silence. In the year and a half since Margaret passed, entering the house after a long day had come to feel like entering a tomb. It was cold, dark and quiet. Desperate to fill the emptiness, he'd switch on all the lights and play records while he ate his warmed-over dinner left by the housekeeper. If Timothy was still up, he'd ask him about his day and his son's inquisitive chatter would help for a while.

But he couldn't banish the silence completely, and after Tim went to bed, he was left alone again. He developed a habit of burying himself in paperwork, working late into the night to tire himself out enough for sleep.

When Shelagh came into their lives, he realized that this all could be different. Better. It was possible, one day.

But the day he knew everything had changed for certain was the day he opened the door at 24 Bermondsey Lane and there was…life. The lights were on in the sitting room, a warm, delicious smell emanated from the kitchen and there was music playing, while a clear, soft voice sang along.

Watch the sunrise from a tropic isle…Just remember darling, all the while, you belong to me.

Warmth filled his chest and he smiled. Shelagh. He knew she'd be here – she and Tim had made plans yesterday for her to come and spend some time with him after school. But he'd expected to find her reading in the sitting room or at the table with Tim – not standing in his kitchen, cooking and singing along to the wireless.

She caught him staring in the doorway and blushed crimson. His grin widened. "Don't stop, it's lovely."

She giggled shyly. "Tim showed me how to switch on the wireless."

He took in the meal laid on out the cooker – chops, peas, roast potatoes – and his stomach rumbled.

"You didn't have to do all this." Though Patrick had definite plans for asking her to marry him – he'd stopped by the jewelers yesterday – they were still courting, and he wanted to treat her as such. He'd planned on taking her out for a meal that evening. Tim would be fine left by himself for a few hours after a fish and chips supper.

"I wanted to," she said, twisting the one of the oven gloves in her hands. "You don't mind, do you? And I thought Timothy would appreciate it."

"Oh he will – especially after my cooking." He looked through the kitchen hatch into the empty sitting room. "Where is Timothy?"

"Out. He'd finished his homework, so I said he could play until tea." She frowned, a worried crease reappearing between her eyebrows. "That's all right, isn't it?"

"Perfectly." He'd planned on spending the evening showing Shelagh how much he loved her, and instead, she'd done all of this for him. It made him love her even more. "Thank you." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

She smiled again. "Are you hungry? Should we call him in?"

"Not just yet." He pulled her closer to him, placing the hand he held on his shoulder and winding his other arm around her back.

"Patrick!" she gasped. "I don't know how to dance."

"Really?" He gently took her other hand in his, wrapping his fingers around her palm. "Well, then it's time you learned."

He could feel her nerves as she stumbled, unsure and a little stiff in his arms, and they moved awkwardly side-to-side for a few moments. He'd never held her this close before without kissing her and he knew if she looked up at him instead of at his waistcoat, he probably would…not that kissing would spoil anything.

Another song played and he began to sing along, hoping she wouldn't roll her eyes as Timothy so often did.

Why must I meet you in a secret rendezvous? Why must we steal away to steal a kiss or two?

She giggled. "Forgive me, Patrick, but you can't sing."

He chuckled. "Everyone's a critic. Fine. You sing, I'll dance, we'll muddle through together."

His fingers splayed across her back and he felt her relax and lean into him, her movements a little surer and easier now.

Wish we didn't have to meet secretly, Wish we didn't have to kiss secretly….

The song ended all too quickly in his opinion and an announcer came on to read the news and advertisements. Still, they stood, swaying gently now, not really dancing at all, just holding each other in the middle of the kitchen.

"That was lovely," she whispered, finally looking up at him.

"You are lovely," he said, dipping his head to kiss her softly. "In fact, I think we should make this dance lesson a regular occurrence. What do you say?"

She wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. "Oh, I think I definitely need more lessons."