‘Right, that’s the taxi booked for half-past seven in the morning – stop everything and come and pack! Get the cases down from the attic so that we can finish and then eat and then watch a movie and then go to bed!’
Her sweet voice rounded the corner from the upstairs study, bounced down the thirteen stairs and swerved into the living room where he sat thinking about nothing in particular on his fifty-seventh boxing day afternoon. He checked the clock: fifteen-seventeen.
Hmm, so that gives us, ahm … sixteen is four, five, six, seven, which is three add twelve, so fifteen hours plus thirteen minutes until we have to leave the house. Considering that it’ll take me about eleven of those minutes to pack then … Yeah, I think I’d better get started now.
‘Coming, my dear!’
His sweet voice traversed the reverse of the path hers had taken and she smiled.