The New House – Part 1: No Furniture Yet

The house had been empty for six weeks, and it smelled of cold dust and old paint. Megan stood in the living room with a box of mugs in her arms and listened to the wind rattle the loose window in the kitchen.

"It's perfect," said Dylan, from the hallway.

"It has no furniture."

"It has a view of the river. And a bath with feet."

"We have no bed."

"We have a mattress," said Dylan, grinning, and nudged a rolled-up mattress through the front door with his foot. "It's very comfortable. I tested it this morning."

Megan laughed for the first time all day. She set down the mugs and turned to look at him, in his old jumper with sawdust on the sleeves and a smudge of paint on his cheek.

They had been married for nine years, the last three of them spent in a rented flat in Launceston with a landlord who never fixed the heating. Money had been tight. Work had been long. The conversations had become lists: who was picking up the dry cleaning, whether the car needed a service, what they would eat on Thursday.

"Do you remember the first house?" she asked.

"The one with the broken kettle and the garden full of weeds?"

"Mm. We used to sit on the back step with a bottle of wine and talk until the stars came out."

"We still can," said Dylan quietly. "If we want to."

They ate fish and chips on the back step of the new house, in the cold evening air, with the river glimmering below and the sky going violet over the hills. Dylan told her about the job he had been offered in Devonport, and she told him she had been afraid to say she wanted to change careers.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I thought you'd want me to stay the same," said Megan. "The way we were in Launceston."

Dylan looked at her for a long moment, the chips forgotten in his hands.

"I don't want you the same," he said. "I want you happy. Even if that means you're busy at odd hours and we eat dinner standing up."

"That sounds romantic."

"It's honest," said Dylan, and smiled, slow and warm.

When the stars came out over the river, he moved closer on the step, his shoulder warm against hers.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Yes."

"Would you like to stay up late with me, tonight, on a mattress on the floor, and talk until we fall asleep? Not because we have to. Because I've missed that."

Megan's throat tightened. "Yes," she said. "I'd like that very much."

"Green?"

"Green," said Megan, and leaned into him, and felt the cold night melt away.