The Flower Shop on Foxley Street. Rachel Dove

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      Stepping out of the shower, she slung on her robe and dashed into her bedroom to get ready. She wanted to get to work early, to compose herself for her morning coffee date/meeting/awkward experience. Stuart hadn’t even called last night, since she put the phone down on him, and she knew he was either letting her cool off or still scratching his head trying to work out what had gone on. Either way, she just hoped he remembered she was busy today. She would deal with him later. Once she had worked out in her own mind just what she was doing.

      Downstairs, Irvin was sitting at the kitchen island, spreading damson jam onto hot buttered toast. Lily smiled at her dad, who looked a little like Danny DeVito, with the wit of Ricky Gervais. Her mother, in comparison, looked more like Glenn Close. Beautiful, tall, and thin with an elegance to her that you didn’t learn from any magazines. Lily was an odd combination of the two: having inherited her mother’s good bone structure and body proportions, and her father’s odd sense of humour and general lack of grace.

      Stuart had taken her golfing once, early on in their dating life. She thought it had gone quite well, but she hadn’t been asked back. She was too embarrassed to ask the reason why. She assumed that her hitting the duck in the pond with a stray shot wasn’t a factor. Or the dent she had put into Stuart’s prized chariot.

      Whatever the reason, she never went to the golf club any more, and Stuart seemed reluctant to have her there again. A shame really, because with a bit of work on the gardens, it would be a fantastic wedding venue. Not that she had mentioned that to him, of course. She was starting to realize that Stuart wasn’t big on talking about wedding plans, but which guy was? It was a badly kept secret that the groom just pretty much turned up on the day, and had no clue about what a centrepiece was, let alone what type of flowers were involved. Why would Stuart be different?

      She kissed her dad on the top of his head, and he patted her arm.

      ‘Morning, darling, sleep well?’

      Lily nodded. ‘Not bad, I have an early start today so I need to get cracking. Where’s Mum?’

      She saw her dad’s face drop a little. ‘Still asleep I think. You know she moved into the spare room, don’t you?’

      Lily nodded. ‘Judging from the amount of face creams in my bathroom, I gather she means to stay there too.’

      Irvin winced, and her heart went out to him.

      ‘I know, I know. Your mother is a stubborn woman. She always has been.’

      Lily rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t see you trying to sort things out either, Dad. It’s been a while since you two have even talked, you know?’

      He nodded and seemed to be about to say something when his wife walked into the room. She looked tired, and a little gaunt, and Lily saw that her dad seemed taken aback.

      ‘Talking about me, were you?’ she said sniffily. ‘I do live here too you know.’

      Lily groaned. ‘Mum, we weren’t talking about you, not like that. It’s just that you seem so unhappy.’

      ‘Me unhappy!’ Lizzie proclaimed. ‘I’m fine!’

      Irvin shook his head. ‘No, Lizzie, you’re not.’

      Lily looked from one parent to the other, wishing herself from the room. It was looking like another breakfast from the fruit bowl dash.

      Lizzie sighed, looking all the more tired, and straightened up her dressing gown.

      ‘Well, Irvin, whose fault is that, eh?’

      ***

      They both looked at each other, lost in what they wanted to say and what they felt the other wanted to hear.

      ‘Let’s face it, Irvin, we are not getting on.’

      Irvin went to shake his head, but Lizzie held up a hand to silence him. ‘You know I’m right.’ Irvin nodded slowly, dropping his slice of toast back onto his plate, with a ching on the bone china.

      ‘This retirement was supposed to be a new start – our time. We had so many plans, and what happened? Nothing!’

      Irvin stood up from the stool, walking over to his wife. They stood a foot apart, but Irvin didn’t come any further. They looked each other up and down, neither knowing what to say next. He broke first.

      ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

      Lizzie looked at her husband in shock. Had it really come to this? Them offering each other food and beverages in perpetuity, till one of them shuffled off the mortal coil? She suddenly pictured them, wizened and grey, sat like bookends at each end of the fireplace, rotund from too many biscuits. She looked around, realizing that Lily was gone. She felt a pang of shame. Their poor daughter had obviously fled after yet another awkward morning.

      She took a step back, shaking her head. ‘No, Irvin, I bloody well do not.’ She looked at him one more time, like he had just stepped out of a spaceship before her eyes, and flounced off down the hall.

      ***

      Irvin was left in the kitchen, listening to the kettle click off in the silence. Like an automaton, he walked to the appliance, pouring the hot water onto the teabag in his favourite cup. As he stirred in the milk, he had a pang for his old life, the one where they rushed about, busy lives intertwined. Many a time they had snuggled on the sofa together, exhausted from work and raising their daughter, and been content to just read a book or watch a film together.

      Now, they sat in separate rooms, their house sterile, impersonal. Funny how things changed. Irvin wasn’t a fan, it had to be said. He sighed, sitting back down at the island stool. He just didn’t know how to fix it. The thing was, retirement was terrifying him. He didn’t feel ready to curl up and coast through the rest of his life reading the paper. Five minutes later, he was still nursing his tea when the front door slammed shut.

      ***

      Lily crept out of the house like a stealth ninja, almost snagging her thick tights on the rosebush as she darted across the drive to her van. Looking at the expansive front drive, she clicked her car open. Quietly closing the door behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her little pink van was always sandwiched between her parents’ cars these days. Mum’s smart little Mini and Dad’s Volvo were normally tucked up together on the drive, but now even her van was some kind of referee between their warring vehicles.

      At this point, Lily was glad that she was an only child for the first time in her life. Having brothers and sisters would have been lovely, but given this situation, she wasn’t sure that other casualties of war would have been a good thing. She turned on the engine and flicked on the radio. Reaching for a battered CD case in her door pocket, she pulled out a black CD and fed it into the player. A moment later, heavy metal blared out of the speakers and Lily pulled off the drive. A nice bit of music to blast the anger out of her before she started work.

      Heading further into Westfield, Lily waved at various people as normal. Heading past the greengrocer’s, she saw Simon writing the day’s offers on the blackboard outside. Pulling up, she wound her window down. Simon jumped up, pretending like a mime artist to be blasted away with the force of the music. Lily laughed and flicked the stereo off.

      ‘Sorry,’ she tittered. ‘I forgot you have no taste in music.’

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