‘Just book a wake-up call,’ I said, unclipping my conference badge.
‘Shh, the hotel kitchen won’t miss one saucepan,’ Jonathan said, his words slurring. ‘Wait here.’
Two minutes later he emerged waving a pan. ‘Set alarm, put one wind-up alarm clock in saucepan, place pan in bath, go to bed. Guaranteed. Never trust wake-up calls.’
Outside his room we kissed cheeks. ‘Goodnight,’ I said.
‘Stay,’ he said. ‘Please.’
I hesitated a second too long. He opened the door, led me inside.
In the morning I crept out, leaving Jonathan sleeping. On my way I passed the forgotten saucepan and unwound alarm clock tangled amongst his discarded clothes.
I really struggled this week – hence posting on a Thursday rather than Wednesday, and I’m still not that happy with what I’ve written. For those who don’t know, this is part of the Friday Fictioneers writing group, where our kind host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts a picture each week (this week supplied by Doug MacIlroy), and writers from around the word write a 100 or so word story inspired by the picture. You can join in here, or read other stories here.
For anyone interested in the publishing journey of my novel, you might like to read my latest post about speaking at the Cheltenham Literature Festival.