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...room with our gifts and let loose with the garlands of celebration. I remember as we settled down that night, sat by the fire, which Mark wouldn’t give up on. Glass of wine in hand and we made a toast.

‘To us’, we chimed. Sipping our drinks. Mark taking the glass out of my hand.

‘god, I love you’ and he kissed my nose. ’ lets practise making babies all night long, Mrs Gregory’ and he had winked and taken me in his arms. Making love slowly for the first time in our new house, right there in front of the fire. With only the shadows to watch from the light of the fire as it danced with each move.

Where did it all go? The fun, the love? Who had changed? or had we really at all. Is it the house?, as I had joked one morning over coffee, that maybe it was the house. Jinxed maybe. But Mark didn't laugh, he didn’t find it funny. His pride and joy. and he stormed out the door before i could speak.

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