How was it?’ Phil asked as Jackie walked into the kitchen, where a pleasant garlicky aroma filled the air.
‘Fine,’ she sighed.
‘Doesn’t sound fine,’ her husband replied, continuing to fill pasta tubes with one of his bolognese-type concoctions.
She and Phil had both retired a few weeks previously, and cooking had become Phil’s latest all-consuming passion, which was no surprise. Whatever project he undertook, he did so enthusiastically, whether learning to scuba dive at 50 or doing a charity parachute jump at 60.
Jackie put her knitting bag on the kitchen table and poured herself a glass of wine. Phil turned to her. ‘C’mon, love. What’s the matter?’
She sipped her drink, savouring the fruity flavour. ‘It’s just… everyone at the knitting group seems to be making something for grandchildren or one on the way.’
‘Surely, not everyone?’
She shrugged. ‘Well, almost. I feel like an outsider – what with us not having any. It’s suddenly hit me now I’m retired, with plenty of time on my hands.’ Especially since Phil