The Bedside Book

Adela stopped in the bedroom doorway because she had left a basket of clean washing on the bed.

Of all the things she had imagined going wrong, her own underwear sitting in a dignified pile between two towels had not featured.

“Give me a moment.”

She let go of Oswin’s hand and picked up the basket. Too quickly; a sock fell out. She bent, caught the basket on the bedpost and heard herself make the small, furious sound she usually reserved for a thread that would not go through a needle.

Oswin picked up the sock.

“Where do you want it?”

“In a house owned by somebody more accomplished.”

He put it in the basket. “I don’t know her.”

Adela set the washing on the chair and turned to him. He was still by the door, his expression warm and faintly amused, with no sign that ordinary evidence of her…