As my phone bleeps, I know it is the text I have been longing for.  ’Tea downstairs’.  I wriggle out of the sensuous duvet and writhe into my fleecy dressing gown.  As I walk to the bathroom I glimpse the grey tie and finger it slowly.  Yes…yes I MUST get it to the dry-cleaners today.

‘What do you want for breakfast?’ He says.

‘Oh, nothing.  I’ll grab some toast later’

“NO.  You must…eat”  The word lingers on his lips like a crumb of Marmite toast, desperate to be licked off in salty delight.

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