Dylan

I decide I need to try a softer tone. It's something that never comes easily to me – and something I've only ever reserved for Sam, - and only on limited occasions, but she looks like she about to leave the car. It would be easier if she did – but marriage isn't supposed to be easy, and this is where we've failed so many times before.

Storm out and slam the door, when things get difficult – it's what we do best.

This time it's different though – Sam doesn't look like she wants to storm off – she looks like she wants to run away, and that worries me. Not least because it's the second time she run away from something today – or because last time she almost got run over in the process. It worries me more, because it's not like her. Running away is the last thing Sam would normally do.

A conversation we had during the cave rescue comes back to me – what was it she said?

'I wasn't scared of the dark – I was just scared of being in the dark with you.'

I didn't think she meant it – she was just trying to wind me up, but now I'm suddenly worried that she was serious.

Is my wife really scared of me? Is that why she keeps running away?

So I soften my tone.

Sam

I bite my lip and consider opening the car door, and running away for the second time today. It's something he's obviously noticed, for after looking at my face, he puts his arm gently across my lap to stop me.

"Please don't." He says softening his tone. And he sounds so worried. Does he think I'm scared of him? I hope not.

Softening his tone is difficult for him, I know, because it doesn't come naturally, but he's making the effort and seeking reassurance that I'm not going to run away from him.

I close my eyes again, resigned. "I'm not going anywhere, Dylan."

Because I can't now - can I? Not after he's broken right back into the heart I was trying to harden against him.

"Good." He answers, and his relief is so touching. His arm remains where it – but not because he's trying to stop me from leaving now. "You think you don't deserve me." He mutters. "But..." He touches my face lightly with his warm hand before he continues. Such gestures are usually out-of-bounds in our relationship – but I miss him so much. "Don't you think..." He continues. "That it should be up to me to decide whether I'm better off without you?"

"Yeah. I guess." I answer eventually. I glance at him and he gives me one of his very rare smiles. They make his whole face light up - and they so rare that it's impossible not to smile back. He puts his hand over mine – which now rests on my knee.

I lift up my fingers so that they entwine with his. "Shame you cancelled that restaurant." I comment.

He clears his throat. "I...er...might have failed in that assignment." He states – in a way that only Dylan Keogh can.

"Oh?" The atmosphere of the car is much more comfortable to us now and it enables me to chuckle lightly. "Well, I wouldn't necessarily call that a failure, grumpy!"

"Shall we go then?" He asks.

"Mm-hm." I agree and he turns the engine on.

"Dervla probably needs letting out -and I should probably change my shirt." He remarks. "So, if we go back to mine first and then I'll take you back home so you can change before dinner – if you want to." He adds. "You look perfectly nice like that."

'Perfectly nice' is Dylan's equivalent of 'beautiful'.

"Thank you – but yes I will change." I tell him as we pull out of the car park.

It's quite busy where Dylan normally parks, so he pulls up on the other side of the road. Once we're out of the car, he holds his hand out to me. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"It's a road." He explains. "Its got cars – and ambulances and...things."

I sigh and give him my hand. "Yes Dylan."

Dervla is very pleased to see me when we get back to the boat and barks at me excitedly, jumping up. I'm not surprised – we always got on well and she hasn't seen me for a long time, but Dylan apparently can't understand it.

"Down, Dervla." He grunts. "What's the matter with you? It's just Sam."

"She's pleased to see me, that's all." I comment.

He answers me with an grunt. "Oh."

I ruffle the dog's head and glance up as she licks my hand in return. He looks mildly irritated.

"Don't tell me you're jealous of the dog?!" I chuckle, leaning up and giving Dylan a pacifying peck on the cheek. He looks much happier. I smile, satisfied that I've solved that one. "Come on then grumpy – go and get changed."

"Dylan, where's your duster?" I ask after a while.

He pokes his head around the door of his bedroom. "My what?"

He's in the process of putting a clean shirt on and my breath catches in my throat as I repeat my question. "Your duster...it's not a trick question, Dylan." I add as his expression contorts to thorough confusion. "There's dust everywhere – it's not healthy for you or Dervla." Something he should know – given that he's a doctor.

"Oh." He answers. "Duster...um..."

"Under the sink?" I suggest helpfully.

"Um...yeah. It might be." He agrees vaguely.

I open the cupboard in question and feel a stab in my heart. The duster is indeed in there – the same duster, in the same box I packed for him when we went our separate ways about a yeah ago. I knew it wouldn't occur to him to buy such a thing but, he must have put the box in the cupboard and forgot about it – probably a deliberate action at the time. We were both very hurt at the time of our split – Dylan, because I'd betrayed him – and me, because I felt that he didn't think I was worth fighting for – even before I had the affair. We're both very good – (or bad depending on how you look at it!) at ignoring things when they go wrong and this is a box I packed to try and care for him in my on-going absence. It was undoubtedly easier for him back then, to shove the box in a cupboard where he couldn't see it.

I glance back up to find Dylan watching me nervously. "Don't look so worried!" I exclaim. "I'm not going to move anything – I'll just dust a few surfaces while your getting ready."

Dylan

When I go back out of my room, the place looks beautifully clean and I marvel at how fast she's worked – and how much care she's taken.

"Dylan!" I look up and Sam shakes her head at me with a sigh.

"What?" I retort, as she stands in front of me - still shaking her head in mild amusement.

"You've missed a button!" She comments, resting her hands on my chest. "Can't take you anywhere!"

"It shows how much I need you." I point out hopefully with a shrug, as she undoes my shirt again.

"...Or that you weren't concentrating." She chuckles, re-doing the buttons in the right order.

Personally, I still think it's the first one. I was angry and hurt when we split up, but I have missed her looking after me.