Ok, so two chapters in one day might be a little excessive; but I've set a challenge of getting this finished and there is a lot of it to go! This is just a short little cutesy piece though. The quotation in it is I think from a book by Zoe Trope called Please Don't Kill The Freshman. Enjoy! Jessie xx

Routine

It had been the longest day in Sandra's mind; yet it had been one of the shortest too. It was barely half past four when she made her excuses and left the office. It was only April but she put the roof down on the car just to have the air surround her as she drove to the shops. They still needed to do a proper shop, but in the meantime she'd pick up a few things. Rob had got in a few bits the previous evening but through a series of remarkably romantic text messages through the afternoon he had provided her with a small shopping list. Bread – how did you forget bread? – we had some rolls left, can you get some washing powder too – ok, toothpaste? – yes, that one with the stripe for Mia and whatever for us - - olive oil, onion, eggs, cheese… It had at least distracted her from the killer headache that had occupied her brain for most of the afternoon; partly wine-induced, partly trying to figure out the pattern in the case with Brian. Having completed the small shop, spending more time than was strictly necessary in the aisle with the toothpaste, how were there so many versions of the same thing? She pulled up in her own driveway. Unlocking her front door, she sighed as the waft of disuse met her senses. The house was dark, cold and had a peculiar damp smell which mingled with the left over scent of coffee from the morning.

"It's not even been a month!" she muttered angrily as she turned on her heel and closed the door behind her. She got back into her car and stared up at her house. It had always been too big for her, but it had never seemed so empty until today. Even last night, well, she mocked herself, she had been quite drunk last night. Turning the key in the ignition, she reversed out of the driveway and headed towards Rob's flat.

"Alright?" Mia asked as Sandra came in and dropped the shopping bags on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah," Sandra smiled, shrugging off her coat and hanging it up on the hooks, dropping her car keys into the bowl on the table. "You? Had a nice day?"

Mia shrugged. "English, free period, Maths. Nothing too exciting. No it wasn't!" she shook her head and pulled a face at Bella who had started laughing.

Sandra grinned and took a seat on the sofa, watching as Bella imitated Mia's facial expressions. "Your dad not back yet?"

"Not yet," Mia leant back against the chair, teasing Bella with one of her toys. "You sure you're alright?"

"I've had the hangover from hell all day," Sandra admitted.

"Ah," Mia grinned at her. "Hear that Bella? Nana's a bit hungover, naughty Nana!"

"Oi!" Sandra exclaimed playfully as Bella looked curiously between the two of them. She smiled and swapped her seat on the sofa for the floor so that she could play with Bella's bricks. Bella promptly rolled onto her stomach and wiggled toward her 'nana'. They'd never discussed Sandra being considered Bella's grandma, but from the first time that Mia had referred to her as such, none of them had objected to the idea. As they played, Bella reaching for bricks and 'helping' Sandra to build what resembled a building site with short piles of materials left hap-hazardously about, Sandra mused that where coffee, bacon butties and throwing up hadn't worked playing with a four-and-a-half-month old proved an effective hang-over cure. They were so absorbed by their game, complicated by Mia's addition of 'Giant Mr. Spotty Rabbit the Guv'ner' trying to tidy up their site, that they didn't notice the front door open and close.

"Well, it's nice to see you all too," Rob said in his best put-out-that-he-hasn't-been-instantly-noticed-gran dad voice.

Bella immediately looked up and gleefully gurgled, stretching her arms towards the sofa. Sandra laughed and lifted the little girl, "Do you want to see old-grumpy-pops?" she asked, looking at the child as she stood up and passed Rob his grand-daughter.

"Oh charming, old-grumpy-pops am I?" he mocked, kissing his grandchild's cheek. "I thought grumpy was your adjective today? How's the hangover?"

"Better, thanks," Sandra stuck her tongue out. She knelt on the sofa, leaning over to watch Bella pull faces at Rob.

"Hiya love, how was college?"

"Boring as usual thanks," Mia grinned, tidying up the toys. "How was work?"

"Boring as usual," Rob agreed. It was their daily exchange, if everything was boring, everything was good.

Sandra grinned as the evening settled into its routine. She was soon left in the company of Bella and a story book while Rob and Mia disappeared into the kitchen area to prepare dinner and have their 'father-daughter' time. It was so easy, she thought, to lose herself in the evenings now. To be comfortable, warm and at home. No longer was every night a spontaneous curry or a drink; a take-away; an impromptu gathering at Gerry's or Brian and Esther's (though those had become less frequent with Brian's dislike of Steve); or a night alone in front of the television with a bottle of wine. She realised with a jolt that she hadn't spent an evening with her mum for a while. She went over every weekend for a few hours on either the Saturday or the Sunday, depending on what they had planned. It hadn't exactly been overnight, but it was close to; her circle had grown in a confining way. That worried her slightly. And perhaps she'd spent too long that afternoon thinking about quotations, but something she'd read in some book sometime ago came back to her with inverted commas shadowing it in her mind: There is nothing special about falling in love. This is habit, this is routine… She wouldn't swap it for the world; the feeling that she got when she met Rob in the car-park after work; the sense of arriving home to a place where people lived; listening to Mia talk about her college work; playing bricks with Bella and reading silly stories while watching her small face light up with peculiar facial expressions as the baby began to recognise the sounds that she made. The feeling of someone's hand upon her shoulder, tenderly interrupting, "You ready for dinner?"

She looked up at his gently smiling face, "I'll just finish this page."

"Ok," he leant down and brushed his lips against her forehead.

She finished the last page of the story and handed Bella to Mia so that the child could feed before bed-time. She and Rob would open a bottle of wine, enjoy a small glass while he put the finishing touches to dinner. Mia would join them after putting Bella down and they would eat and talk about their days but never about the details of work: Rob would animatedly imitate whichever boring and stuck-up political fool he'd had to meet with; Sandra would roll her eyes and describe her rogues' latest capers. Sandra and Mia would do the washing up while Rob checked his e-mails for the last time of the day, put their phones on charge and find something to watch on the television. They'd turn off the lights in the kitchen and join him in the living room with cups of coffee. Mia would sit and do some of her coursework before disappearing to her own room, leaving them alone on the sofa with the lights low and the rest of the bottle of wine from dinner.

There was nothing special about it. It was habit; it was routine; it was comfortable; it was family. And she wouldn't have it any other way.