I had two choices: I could either sit there moping, or I could go and find her, try to sort things. I drained the Lagavullin from my glass, steadied myself and went out. The grogginess disappeared as soon as the cold air hit me. My head felt as clear as the black sky, dotted with stars that poked through like shards of glass.
She couldn’t have gone far. She was probably hiding round the corner, in the shed, or on her way back, full of apologies and remorse. She’d lower her voice in the way she always did when she realised it was her fault, then would set her eyes on me, pleading for forgiveness and the desire to bring everything sailing back down to normal. She might even offer to make the tea (for once) and help me with the fire, soothe my head with her gentle fingers and tell me that she loved me. Just for once, she might consider doing any of these things. But I thought about it again and…well, probably not. I kept moving, trampling over damp, cold leaves that slid and squelched underfoot.