The following morning I awoke with a dry mouth and painfully throbbing head. As I lay there I made up my mind that the time had come to pull myself together and get back on my feet... metaphorically speaking at that point, considering I had a broken ankle to consider.

Anyway, my mind was made up. I would not win back the man I adored by getting drunk and shouting at him. That was not the Anna he fell in love with!

And so began the first day of the rest of my life. I followed my determination and became even more than I had been before, the adoring but still somewhat dominant wife... Well, I couldn't just roll over, could I? After all, that wasn't the Anna he married either.

I dressed properly again and pushed myself to be just as I had been, strong and loving.

The weeks passed by and my ankle healed well although it would be stiff for a long time and sometimes it would give a twinge of mild pain if I moved a certain way but it was no more than I expected.

I returned to work and settled back into the old routine.

It would be wrong to imagine that things were perfect once more, though, Philip remained distant but attentive and the test of whether I would lose him, whether he wanted to go or stay and make a go of it, came when he took me to the hospital to have my cast removed.

Once free of it, the hospital took back my crutches and offered me a walking stick for a couple of weeks until it was back to full strength.

I refused.

Aluminium crutches are one thing but an aluminium walking stick? One that looks like a crutch but with a handle? No, thank you.

Philip had already realised that would not please me and we had driven to the hospital via the local garden centre where I bought a very smart wooden stick. Philip added a small metal badge shaped like a shield which had ' Anna ' inscribed upon it and fitted just below the handle with two tiny pins.

I knew at that moment that there was a glimmer of hope for us. It may not have been dead certain at that point but that tiny gesture made my heart soar.

Now that I was independent again, I had to be careful about where I went without Philip and how long I was away.

If I visited Penny, I would phone him on some made up pretext, just to reassure him and he also accepted her visiting me at home although I wondered whether that was because he could keep an eye on us.

Gradually the nights shortened and spring was upon us.

We were sitting in the living room, one evening, me watching a historical drama and him reading as was usual when, without looking up from his book he said, “I think we should have a break.”

My heart sank.

“Apart?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.

He looked up.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, looking somewhat bemused.

“No!” I replied quickly, “No, of course not. I just thought that was what you meant.”

He smiled,

“No, I meant together, a holiday. I think it would do us good to get away from here for a while, take a complete rest.”

The drama unfolding on the television was instantly forgotten

“Oh yes, My Love, we could indeed. Where do you have in mind?”

“Somewhere we have always wanted to go but never got round to.”

“Good idea,” I agreed, “Bath? I have always fancied going there.”

He chuckled.

“I was thinking of somewhere a little further afield.”

“Oh, all right,” I pondered for a moment. “How about, hmmm... Cornwall!”

“No!” he laughed out loud, closing his book and placing it on the arm of his chair. “I was thinking more like Venice!”

“Venice?” I exclaimed, “Oh gosh, I would love that, I really would!”

My heart was beating wildly now, Venice, the capital of romance!

I wondered if I dared hope that we were going to be together again at last.

“Do you really mean it?” I asked slowly, standing and walking over to him.

I knelt in front of him, gazing up into his eyes and taking his hands in mine.

He didn't look away but returned my gaze and I could see a faint glimmer of love flickering within them.

“I have been looking at options while you have been at work,” he went on. “We can visit Verona too whilst we are there.”

Now my mind was going crazy. He really had thought about this. Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare's tragic lovers. Their deaths were less considered than their great love and I was sure now that this was what he was thinking.

I remained sitting back on my feet, staring up at him with my heart full of love for him and a small tear formed at the corner of my eyes.

“Then it is agreed?”

I nodded,

“Yes, it is,” I whispered joyfully.

“Well, that is good because I have booked it already. First week in May.”

“May?” I gasped, “But that is...”

“Yes,” he interrupted, “In two weeks.”

“But work!” I exclaimed, “What if I can't get the leave?”

“Oh, you will,” he answered with a mysterious smile.

“What? But how could you possibly know that?”

“Because I have already spoken to them. I told them I wanted to surprise you.”

I leaned forwards and rested my head in his lap and almost purred when I felt his hand stroke my hair.

“There is one thing, though,” he said slowly and it felt as though he were about to disappoint me in some way, “We have to fly from Gatwick.”

Without moving I smiled to myself thinking that was hardly a problem.

“Does that matter?” I asked softly, more to show I had heard him rather than a query.

“Only that we will have to go down by train. The flights from Leeds or Manchester were nearly two Hundred pounds more.”

I snuggled against his lap, squeezing his hand.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I shouted out in sudden pain as I tried to stand but immediately sat back down on the carpet.

Philip looked alarmed.

“What is it, what's wrong?”

“My ankle!” I exclaimed, rubbing it vigorously and half smiling, half grimacing, “I shouldn't have knelt for so long, it has seized.”

That night I went to bed happy. I think I must have floated up the stairs on a cushion of love and I undressed with such ease.

It is hard to imagine just how difficult life can be with a lump of plaster on the end of one's leg but now it was gone, I could appreciate so much more being intact and independent once again.

I lay back against the pillow, wearing my comfortable pink pyjamas and picked up my book from the nightstand. I liked to read a few pages, I found it helped me to sleep.

Halfway down the first page I was disturbed by the gentle, almost inaudible creak of my bedroom door opening.

I lowered my book and looked over the top of my glasses as Philip stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the landing behind him.

“I thought... If you would like... I mean... if you want me to...”

He was uncertain and his clumsy words didn't seem to want to form themselves into full sentences. I didn't say anything but closed my book, placed it back on the bedside table, removed my glasses and placed those on top of it and then turned back the quilt with a happy smile.

Raising a finger in a gesture of 'just a minute' he turned and flicked the switch on the wall at the top of the stairs, plunging the landing beyond my door into darkness then came to me, pulling the cord of his dressing gown and letting it slip from his shoulders.

For the first time ever he dropped it to the floor and left it where it lay.

Normally I would have protested but just for tonight, I said nothing.

He kicked off his slippers, leaving those too where they fell and slid into the bed beside me.

It had been so long it felt almost as wonderful as that first time over a quarter of a century ago.

As he slid down I let the quilt fall back over him, put my arm around his waist and lay my head upon his chest.

I desperately wanted him to make love to me but I was not going to spoil the moment by pressing too hard too soon. I would let him choose when he was ready for the next step and, instead just relaxed whilst listening to his heart beat as I slowly drifted off into a contented sleep.

When I awoke the next morning I was alone! My heart sank. I hadn't set the alarm as it was Sunday and it was now Nine-thirty! The curtains were still drawn but the room was light and I could tell the sun was shining directly against them.

I knew it was too much to expect, he had obviously had a change of heart and gone back to his own room but wait, what was that? A sound from downstairs.

“Philip?” I called down the stairs, “Is that you?”

“Just a minute, Love,” he called back, “Give me a moment.”

I was puzzled so went to the bathroom and cleaned my teeth.

When I was done I caught a strong smell of coffee wafting up from the kitchen so I quickly returned to my bed and waited patiently.

Sure enough, minutes later, I heard a quiet creaking of the stairs and gentle clinking of cups and then he appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray which had little legs either side like a miniature table. He placed it before me on the bed and I stared at it in amazement. He had made a fresh cafetière of coffee and a small pot of tea with two cups and saucers. There were also two small plates with a rack of toast and little dishes of butter and jam but, what I loved the most was the small silver vase he had dug out which had been from our wedding day and had placed in it a small red rose from the garden.

I looked at him and felt a small tear of joy escape and roll down my face.

Philip leaned to me and carefully lifted the tear away with the back of his forefinger and replaced it with a tender kiss.

I was choked and could do no more than smile happily up to him with my lips quivering with emotion.

He placed a small kiss upon them too, which I returned joyfully.

We sat beside each other in bed for the next hour or so, sipping our respective beverages and nibbling the toast which he buttered for me with the small knife he had also brought, along with a little jam.

I was in Heaven, surely. All the angst and upset of the last few weeks were slowly fading and a new dawn had risen for us.

For the first time, I ate every last crumb, even running my finger around the edge of the plate to catch the few that had escaped.

“Do you want to go out?” he asked as he stacked the empty crockery on the tray.

I shook my head.

“No, not really. Do you?”

He also shook his head.

“Not especially. Shall we stay in then and have a lazy day?”

“Yes, all right then,” I agreed. “Let me clear these dishes away and get dressed and we'll just take what transpires.”

“Oh, no. I will see to the washing up and neither of us are getting dressed. Let's just be sloppy for once,” and he whipped away the tray before I had the chance to protest.

“Oh, Philip! It should be me looking after you now. You have looked after me so well when I was in plaster time for you to rest for once, you deserve it.”

“Fine, I give in,” he sighed then turned and almost ran down to the kitchen before I even had a chance to stop him.

Standing in the kitchen doorway, I stood and watched him at the sink. I would have been a fool to think that everything was perfect but when I thought how close I came to losing him, I shuddered involuntarily.

He must have heard me for he turned to me without taking his hands from the hot soapy water and smiled. I wondered if he thought the same of whether he still resented me for what I did.

I went over and put my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his back and in that position he finished the washing up!

There was no protest when I began to dry the dishes, he knew it would be pointless but, instead, he scooped up a handful of suds and blew them at me. The tiny clouds of bubbles tickled my face and nose and left little wet spots on my face where they burst.

My eyes narrowed. I let the tea towel hang from my hand and gave it a little spin to twist it, all the time staring directly into his eyes,

“You wouldn't!” he said but his eyes showed that he knew I would and suddenly, I flicked the damp cotton towel and the very tip caught the side of his leg.

“Oww!” he exclaimed but smiling.

“Oh dear, You will pay for that!” he laughed and picked up the wet dish cloth from the drainer and began to spin it, twisting it and then, as I had with the tea towel, flicked it suddenly.

The rope like mesh was heavier and wetter than the tea towel and the tip of it hit my bare forearm, stinging intensely.

“Ouch!” I jumped back and grabbed my arm but at the same time flicking again with my tea towel.

This time, he turned but still I scored a strike, directly on the side of his bottom.

He jumped and grabbed his stinging buttock but immediately turned back to make another strike with the dish cloth but I was too quick this time and ran forwards and threw my arms around him, preventing any more attacks.

He returned my embrace and there we stood, holding each other tightly

“Oh Lord, I love you so much,” I said into his dressing gown.

“I know,” he whispered. My heart sank a little as there was no other reply but I couldn't expect too much yet. This had been a good start and that in itself made me very happy.

“Come on,” he said, patting my shoulder, “Let's finish up here and then we can decide what not to do next.”

And that is exactly what we did, nothing. We simply let the day go by but it wasn't wasted, not at all.

We spent the day together, just talking, a little reading, some television and yes, we actually sat and watched the same programmes for once. It was as though we were getting to know each other again and that was exactly what I wanted, for us to connect again.

As we sat and had dinner at the dining room table, which we had both shared the cooking of, I looked across at him.

“You do realize,” I said, “That I shall have to go shopping.”

He stopped, fork full of beef in mid air and then lowered it back to his plate.

“Why do you need to go shopping?” he frowned with incomprehension, “I hadn't noticed we were short of anything... except milk perhaps but you can grab some on your way home tomorrow.”

The fork made it's way back to his mouth.

“What are we doing week after next?” I reminded him.

“Going to Venice,” he replied having swallowed the last fork-full. “Oh... Oh, of course!” the bulb suddenly lit as the penny dropped with some considerable force, “You need new clothes!”

I smiled widely and nodded,

“Uhuh.” I took a mouthful.

He laughed then,

“I suppose that's next Saturday taken care of then.”

He was dead right. The following Saturday I went into town with Penny. It was my intention to shop until we dropped.

Philip had no interest in clothes shopping, he would take what he already owned, after all, he was a man when all's said and done.

I picked Penny up at Ten and we drove straight into town, parking in the long stay car park, the longer the better as far as I was concerned, then began shopping.

I hadn't bought any new clothes since before I broke my ankle and I spent rather more than I had intended. Time as well as money.

As I handed over my debit card for the... well, goodness knows how many times, Penny said,

“Shall we take a coffee break?”

“Oh Penny, I'm so sorry. I am getting carried away aren't I?”

She smiled.

“No, it's all right but I could do with a drink and a bite to eat.”

I took the card back from the shop assistant with a 'thank you' and placed it back in my purse.

“Yes, now you mention it, I could do with something.”

We went to my usual Cafe in the precinct. The young girl behind the counter recognised me immediately.

“Hello stranger!” she beamed brightly, “We haven't seen you for quite a while. How's the ankle?”

“Much better now thank you,” I replied before ordering two coffees and two Panini.

“I must say you look so much happier than when you were last here. Grab a seat,” she continued as she handed over my change, “I'll bring them over.”

Penny and I took our drinks to the comfy sofas I always preferred and sat opposite each other, a small table between us.

“So, how are things now?” she asked after taking a sip of hot coffee.

“Much better,” I was pleased to be able to tell her, “I think we will be all right.”

“That's good,” Penny replied. “He has forgiven you then?”

“Oh, I don't know about that. He may never forgive me but he does love me enough to stay... I think.”

Penny put her cup back on it's saucer.

“You think? You are not certain?”

“We don't talk about it,” I told her. “You know how low I was. I just try not to remind him and let each day that passes become another one towards our future together.”

She picked up her cup and took another sip. I had the impression she wanted to say something but wasn't sure whether she should.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

In all the years I had known her we had never been afraid to speak our minds to each other and I hoped that would ever change.

“No, no, nothing at all... Ah, thank you,” she added, looking up at the waitress who was placing our Panini on the table.

I frowned and also thanked the waitress. Something was obviously troubling her, I had known her too long to pretend it wasn't but if she wanted to tell me she would so, I decided not to push it. If it was important, she would tell me in her own time.