She snuggled back into the thick pillow. She smelled it. It had a faintly familiar fragrance. No fragrance was a bad choice of words. This had its own...aroma, a man’s aroma. She curled more tightly into a small comfortable safe little ball, like a warm fetus she tried to huddle into the tiniest of spaces. Her back really hurt. She didn’t care. She wanted to go back to sleep but couldn’t. That aroma, that scent, it was like Old Spice, a man’s after shave. Paul had come into her small room back. She turned back to the closet. A few minutes later, Jack heard her step into the kitchen. Now, she was wearing an ankle length wraparound skirt and a loose sweater. She still wore her high-heeled shoes, and her stockings. ‘That’s better,’ she said, ‘what have we got?’ ‘Some pork fillets, broccoli, baby potatoes, onions, – ‘ ‘Stop!’ Mari grinned. ‘Grilled pork fillets in onion gravy, with potatoes and broccoli. Maybe not gourmet, but it appeals to me.’ ‘And me. Are you sure?’ ‘Absolutely. Just. More

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