So, a glorious week. Our honeymoon is over.
Mr and Mrs Haswell…
As I pack my case, I’ll admit, I feel a pang.
This place…
This beautiful place…
beautifulThe sea. The beach. The gulls.
And us.
But it’s time to go. Tomorrow we will be back at work.
But there’s no hurry. Leaving the beach house behind us, my Master drives slowly, taking the scenic route, hugging the coast as far as possible before finally, turning off for the main highway and towards our home.
He lays a hand on my knee. "Elizabeth? You"re quiet.”
“I’m fine, Master. It"s been a wonderful week…”
His voice is soft. “And now we"re heading back to Real Life.” He gives the knee a squeeze. “Don"t worry, we"ll take some more time for ourselves soon enough. I never truly bothered with holidays and personal time before. But
