Honey closed her front door behind her and kicked off her shoes then pushed her feet into her battered old slippers. She tucked her shoes under the bench that had sat there for as long as she could remember. The old stone cottage had belonged to her aunt, and when she’d passed away over two years ago, she’d left everything to Honey. Honey’s aunt hadn’t had any children of her own and Honey was an only child, so she’d inherited everything.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she shrugged out of her coat. Sometimes, she wondered what other people thought of her with her blue and pink hair and her tiny sparkling diamond nose stud. The residents of Heatherlea weren’t hugely conservative, but apart from the local hairdresser and beautician Jenny Talbot, she was the only person she knew who had hair that would make a unicorn or mermaid proud. But Honey liked her dyed hair; it lifted her, whereas her natural straw-blonde shade had seemed to drain her face of all colour. The nose stud had replaced a hoop that she’d worn for several years and she liked the sparkle of the tiny diamond that caught her eye whenever she looked in the mirror. Dane had told her that he liked it too, and described it as cute. Honey had no idea whether that meant he fancied her or just thought she was cute like a puppy or a kitten.

She sighed as she hung her coat on the peg and trudged through to the kitchen where she opened the door of the bright red Smeg fridge and gazed at its contents. She didn’t feel hungry, as she had eaten two chocolate muffins and drunk three coffees at Camilla’s, so she could probably wait until later to eat a proper meal.

“Saturday afternoon,” she said to her kitchen, turning around and gazing at the solid oak units and the granite surfaces. All of it was her aunt’s choice of décor – except the fridge, which Honey had ordered to replace the old one when it had conked out last summer – but she didn’t mind because her aunt had had great taste and the things she’d bought were quality and meant to last. Even the old fridge had had a good run, but Honey had been glad to have the excuse to buy a new one, as she liked how the red fridge brightened the kitchen. “Now, what shall I do?”

Movement from outside the kitchen window, that overlooked the back garden caught her eye, so she peered through the glass. It was just her chickens moving around in their enclosure, their heads bobbing as they pecked at the ground, eager to find tasty morsels. She loved her chickens and she’d had the enclosure built in the extensive back garden to provide extra protection from foxes. She could have just had a small pen built and put in a hen house but the thought of her girls being attacked one night was more than she could bear, so she’d sought out a local carpenter and gone for a more secure construction. And so far, so good.

The garden was a combination of neatly mown grass and wildflowers. Either side of the lawn ran hedges and in front of them, the flowerbeds were awash with the colour of spring flowers. The first part of the garden led to a wooden archway abundant with spring-flowering alpine clematis, and beyond that were her raised beds where she grew herbs and vegetables, then her greenhouse where she grew tomatoes and peppers in the summer months. Past this was the third section of the garden where she had her studio. In the studio, she kept her kiln and her easel; it was the sanctuary where she let her creativity flow. Honey sold some of her pottery and paintings locally – under a company name and not her own, because she liked the air of mystery this brought – and some on Etsy, and she even took commissions when she was approached via email. Her aunt had left her a generous inheritance, but Honey liked working and earning her own money from her artwork, her pottery, and the yoga classes she taught. And a percentage of it went to a special charity.

One in four women…

She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that, especially not when she had a whole Saturday afternoon and evening stretching out ahead of her. If she sank into dwelling on that now, then…

No, she would change into her yoga gear and work through her routine. The familiar stretches and poses would soon transport her to a positive mindset and relax her, then she could take a long hot bubble bath and watch some TV.

She headed for the stairs and emptied her mind as she climbed them, focusing instead on her breathing and the way her muscles yearned to form the yoga poses that had become her salvation over the past few years.

“Okay, great. See you tomorrow.” Honey ended the call and flopped back on the sofa. When she’d seen Dane’s name on the caller ID, she’d hoped he was ringing to invite her over for an impromptu dinner, but no. He was just calling to see how she was and to tell her that he’d finished marking his pupils’ maths books but now needed to move on to the history work. However, he had invited her out for Sunday lunch tomorrow, so that was something.

Just as well that she’d put her pyjamas on after her bath and not bothered to get dressed again. She put her mobile on the side table and switched on the lamp that instantly bathed the corner of her lounge in a golden glow. Outside the French doors, the shadows were deepening in the back garden and the beautiful spring day was giving way to twilight. At least the evenings were getting lighter. It could be difficult through the winter months when the nights were so long. Not that Honey allowed herself to wallow in despair, but sometimes she did get lonely and it was always worse in the winter months. That was why meeting Dane and sensing a mutual attraction had been so exciting; it had been years since Honey had even looked at a man but something about Dane had been different. Although as the months had passed, she’d begun to wonder if there was a physical attraction there or if Dane was just lonely too. If he only wanted her companionship, then Honey would be disappointed, yes, but she’d also be happy to have him as a friend. Dane was a great guy and friends were so important. She’d just have to push all thoughts of tearing off his clothes and admiring his rugby-player physique, the physique she’d been up close to when she’d helped him to master some of the more challenging yoga poses at her classes, from her mind…

Pizza!

Pizza would help her to think of something else. She’d picked up a sundried tomato and mozzarella pizza when she’d done her weekly shop, so she’d pop that in the oven, throw together a green salad and maybe even open a bottle of wine. It was Saturday, after all.

An hour later, Honey sat cross-legged on her big squishy dark-green sofa, a plate of pizza balanced on her knees and a glass of ice-cold sauvignon blanc on the side table, the droplets of condensation on its surface glowing in the warm lamplight. Honey took a bite of pizza then washed it down with a sip of cool wine, savouring the aroma of apricots and the crisp dry finish. And as the opening music of her new favourite show Peaky Blinders filled her lounge, she smiled to herself.

“See Honey, who needs Dane Ackerman when you have Thomas Shelby, pizza and wine? Not you, that’s for sure.”

As she took another bite of pizza, she almost believed it.