When she came back in the evening, the first thing that Naomi said to him was, “Oh, it’s only a plain wooden box.”

That morning, her birthday, he had brought her a cup of tea on a tray with a white cloth and a single red rose. Alongside the rose was a small golden key on a chain. She had slipped it around her neck and gasped slightly at the cold as it nestled between her breasts. “It’ll soon warm up,” he had said with a smile. He noticed that she had gone to work wearing no other jewelry apart from her wedding ring.

“Whenever I had a quiet moment today, I toyed with my new key and wondered how much of you and your secretive ways I would unlock this evening.”

“Wait and see,” replied Sean, kissing her. He patted her bottom; to anyone watching it would seem as if he was just shooing her away, but this was a familiar sign between them: her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. His heart beat a little faster.

He put the finishing touches to the supper he had prepared, watching her in the mirror as she went into the bedroom. She left the door open for him. She undressed and let all her day clothes fall to the floor. She stretched like a cat. These simple movements always delighted him; two children, now grown up, had ripened her body without coarsening it. She looked good, with or without clothes on. When she came back from the loo, she put on a simple suspender belt which only seemed to emphasise her nakedness, smoothed on a pair of black stockings, clipping them in place and wrapped a silk gown, very full in the skirt but divided at the back all the way up to her waist, around her, tying it with a simple bow. She did not bother with bra or panties; he had made it clear already that there would be no need for them tonight. A pair of heels, a dab of scent and she was ready, pausing only for another wondering glance at the box.

There were flowers all round her place, the curtains were drawn, the candles were lit and Hungarian folk music played softly in the background. The meal was simple but had needed expert timing: a cheese and bacon soufflé, risen to perfection, sea bream, lightly poached in a buttery sauce with tarragon to give it an edge, a dry white wine, passion fruit sorbet. She ate slowly while he told her a long story about rescuing the sheep that had stood in the middle of the road, blocking his way across the moor when he had gone to buy fish from the quayside that morning. She ribbed him gently that he had not spent a great deal of the day writing his book.

He acknowledged her chiding with a nod of the head. She did not tell him how busy she had been all day and for that he respected her. He had written one successful novel after leaving his stressful job as an engineer but the second was taking much longer than either of them had expected. He enjoyed watching her as she relaxed, trying to conceal her curiosity about the plans he had in store for the rest of the evening.

The music came to an end and she got up as if to