She came back inside at three, just as the light had started to fade fast. Andy was boiling the kettle. She kicked off her boots and stood them on the mat, took off her gloves and placed them on the ledge.
No coat? You’ll catch cold, said Andy.
It’s warm.
You’re kidding?
I’m in a sweat as it is.
Tea?
I’ll take a water.
Andy shook his head. She looked nice in her work jeans and jumper, he always thought so.
How is it out there? The ragged garden of January?
Daffs are up, she replied. I think it’s Spring.
MW Bewick 