Ben was jerked awake by the sound of Marcie’s alarm. He rolled onto his back to stare at the sunlight leaking across the ceiling as she groaned and turned it off. His head felt a little tight, and he recognised the effect of last night’s mixture of booze. Marcie may have been feeling the same way as she rubbed her face and groaned, “Holy Mary! Is it that time? Come on girl, up and at ‘em.”

Ben rolled over to look at the bare speckled skin of her shoulders below her skewed plait as she lay facing away from him. He raised a heavy hand to stroke her gently as she fumbled for her glasses. She rolled back over, pushing herself against him, though he still enjoyed catching a glimpse of her naked flowing breasts and her nipples’ big soft areolae. They hugged, and Marcie pressed a kiss to his face, just pushing her lips firmly to his eyebrow, but she apologised, “Sorry, I can’t hang around to play with you. I need a wee. I feel a bit dulled and drained after last night’s excesses too, to be honest. Shall we quickly see to our ablutions then get some coffee and breakfast down ourselves?”

Ben agreed, managing to plant a kiss on her lips before she rolled away again. She slipped out of bed to find some clothes and their dirty towel, then rushed for the bathroom. Ben watched her naked back as she went, admiring the curves of her spine, her bare buttocks and her muscular thighs, as well as the squashed profile of her breast as she clutched her bundle to her chest. Then he eased himself up too, looking down with a kind of nostalgia at his softly swollen and lengthening penis. Thinking back to last night, he knew that despite his somewhat sore head, he was a very lucky man.

He picked up his jeans and the used condom, found some clean pants and a t-shirt in the spare room, then paused in the kitchen to get rid of the condom and fill the kettle. He could hear the shower running already, but didn’t hesitate to push through the bathroom’s open door.

“Is that helping?” he asked Marcie, as he saw her scrubbing her face under the jet of water.

She blew out her breath to agree as Ben unselfconsciously sat on the toilet to urinate too. He watched her as she grabbed her shower puff and gel, working up a lather before rubbing herself down, all in a far more business-like way than she had last night. Ben guessed she didn’t mind that he still enjoyed watching her do this though, seeing the suds run over the glossy olive skin of her chest, across her swaying breasts especially, as well as further on down her stomach and her thighs, with her sopping wet tangle of fur between them. Still, he didn’t linger this morning as he heard the kettle come to the boil.

“Tea or coffee?” he asked as he rose to leave, and she asked what he was having. “I’ll have a tea, but I’ll make a pot of coffee too. I’ll have that straight after, with my toast.”

“I’ll do the same,” Marcie confirmed, briskly rinsing herself down, “Put one sugar in my tea too, please, and give the bag a good squeeze. I could do with the extra boost this morning.”

Ben confirmed, then stood naked in the kitchen, fumbling through cupboards and packets to make the drinks, feeling a little dirty himself, but glad that the blind was closed this time at least. Marcie was already dressed, with her hair pinned up for the day, as she emerged from the bathroom and came up behind him. He saw she was wearing jeans herself today, along with a tough-looking plaid blouse. She pushed herself up against his bum as she wrapped one arm around his bare chest, then she stroked the palm of her hand down his belly as she reached for one of the mugs of strong tea. Ben twisted around in her arm to hold her to him, but she was already pulling away.

“Are you going to get in the shower too, just to wash your fundamentals at least?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing down at his elongated but still limp manhood, and Ben agreed he would.

Ben focused on washing his armpits and groin, as Marcie had suggested, and let the water run over his face, just as she had done. He felt somewhat recharged as he vigorously towelled himself dry and dressed. By the time he got out of the bathroom, Marcie had already laid out the breakfast table and was making toast, its smell making Ben realise the deep hunger in the pit of his stomach. They both ate milky cereal and buttery toast, draining glasses of orange juice as well as their mugs of tea, which they refilled with the darkly aromatic fresh coffee, both ignoring the laundry that was still on the airer in the middle of the living room.

Ben confirmed that Marcie was feeling a little better for some food and the caffeine, then remarked on how a long gym session could help with a hangover too. That led her to wonder if they could fit a trip to the gym in that afternoon, between their solicitor’s appointment and the start of her shift. She reminded him that she wanted to keep a close eye on him as he eased himself back into his routine, and he agreed to all that. So as they continued eating and drinking, they rehearsed their plan for the day and the paths around town that they’d take. Ben found his list, remembering to add ‘hammer’ to it as he thought of Marcie getting ready the previous evening, and confirmed with her that his plan was to ride his bike over while she drove back with the rest of his stuff.

Marcie agreed, then asked, “Do you want to keep your bike in the hallway?”

“I’d not thought,” Ben admitted, saying, “It should be okay left outside, out in the backyard.”

“No, if it’s your special toy, we can keep it safe and dry inside,” she said, smiling as if she were being cheeky, adding “I’ve been to other people’s flats like this where you have to squeeze around bikes to get in.”

“If you’re sure,” Ben said hesitantly, beginning to tidy their breakfast things up, now that they’d finished eating. He was beginning to form a plan though, “But maybe we could get a little shed. I could build it in the yard. I said I’d help smarten it up out there, so maybe we’ll need one anyway, for tools and that.”

“Maybe,” Marcie agreed, seemingly hesitant herself, “I don’t want you to overdo it though. Do you want to start thinking about a plan, then we can talk to Shona and Ali about it? Once they’ve agreed, we can take it in small steps, and Ali might be able to help with all that physical manly stuff.”

“Aye,” Ben agreed thoughtfully, “I could sketch it up, like I did for the NVQ, when we did a bit on landscape gardening.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Marcie agreed. She knocked back the last of her coffee then stood up to take the crockery through for washing up, whilst Ben added ‘NVQ stuff’ and ‘art stuff’ to his list.

As she came back through to clear the remaining things, she saw what he was doing. “You mentioned tools for your hypothetical shed. Have you got anything like that which you could pick up today, if you’re going to get handy around the place?”

Ben guessed she may be trying to be teasingly suggestive again, but he answered her honestly. “Aye, well, I’ve plenty of tools, for work, for my models, for DIY,” he said as he stood up and followed her into the kitchen to help with the washing up.

“I’m not so good with DIY,” Marcie admitted as she ran a bowl of water. “A screwdriver and some left-over Allen keys from my flatpack furniture are probably all I’ve got, jumbled with all the junk in there,” she said, indicating the kitchen drawer that Ben already knew to be stuffed with plastic food bags, scissors, Sellotape and other random things.

“Well, maybe I’ll pick up a few things, for the bike too, and a drill,” he added, thinking it through. “It’s a bit vague what’s mine and what belongs to the Trust, I guess. I’ve my own harnesses and carabiners though, for climbing. Some things you don’t share, but I don’t need to pick them up.”

“So long as you don’t think you’ll be climbing the walls here!” Marcie joked, and Ben laughed with her as he dried their bowls.

They kept on planning as they finished off, then they followed each other around as they brushed their teeth, Ben remembering to use his brown inhaler, before going through to the bedroom to make the bed together and gather their things, including Ben’s list with its quickly noted additions. Ben picked up the old sports bag that Marcie had brought to the hospital with his emergency overnight things in, saying they’d pick up his big rucksack and use more of the Trust’s plastic crates if they had to. At the door, Marcie paused to confirmed he had everything, and he repeated his new mnemonic aloud, “Wallet, keys, phone, puffer,” patting his pockets to check as he did so.

Marcie drove confidently on the now familiar route through the heavy morning traffic, commenting that she was glad they’d left the seats down in the back of her hatchback Ka. As they parked up, Marcie confirmed Ben would be careful with the dust, being alert for signs of wheezing, and then they got out of the car to stand before the old coach house under the cool overcast sky.

It felt odd leading her up the steps to his own flat, and even more peculiar once he was inside, as if he were a stranger breaking into his own former home, seeing the open-plan studio flat for the first time. He could smell the sawdust immediately, and he looked around the roomy barn of a space suspiciously, wondering where those dangerous microscopic particles were piling up. His eyes scanned over the carpeted floor and his rugs, across the worn fabric of his second-hand sofa and chairs, over his model table and shelves, up over the beams and the windowsills of the high windows along the side walls. He realised that Marcie’s first intuition on coming into this flat was spot on, as it could be everywhere.

Marcie seemed more at ease, or was perhaps just putting on a positive performance for his benefit at what she knew might be a difficult moment. “I like the way the big bed is under those windows at the front,” she observed.

“Aye, I made that myself, just with a bit of seasoned timber from a sycamore I brought down. That window was a pair of doors once, I guess, for loading straight in here, if this was a loft over the stables.”

“I would have liked to have tried it out with you,” Marcie admitted, giggling. “I could have ridden you, facing the sun, celebrating all creation!”

“I’m sorry it’s cloudy today then,” Ben shyly replied, a guilty flashback popping unexpectedly into his mind. He recalled his brief liaison with another woman who’d perhaps thought the same way. She’d insisted they draw the curtains to let the dawn light in before she straddled him. He remembered her squatting over him and grinding mechanically against his pelvis, the shafts of light shining across her pointed breasts as they jolted around, whilst she screwed her eyes tight against the sun. Privately, he now felt a little ashamed to think of the way he’d been with the women who’d come before Marcie.

“No, we can’t get you breathless here, can we?” Marcie said, unaware of his recollections but perhaps still imagining a similar scene in her own mind. “I bet we shouldn’t even stop for a cup of tea. Ooh, your fridge,” she added urgently, “We’d better throw you old food out, hadn’t we? It’ll all be going off, and it will only get worse.”

Marcie had obviously seen where his kitchen area was, off in one corner across the main living area, which he’d laid out by setting his sofa across from a low coffee table in front of his new flat screen television and the shelving units that surrounded it. She was already heading over across that central space as she said, “Shall I start with that, and empty your rubbish too, while you begin loading bags?”

Ben agreed, finding his large rucksack and an old stained duffle bag too. He started filling them with a good selection of his clothes, putting in his boots, smart shoes and summer sandals too. With Marcie busy off in the far corner, he acted quickly and subtly to check for a certain small box at the back of his sock drawer in his bedside cabinet. He pulled it out, then briefly opened it to check that it had what he wanted. He saw the silver Thor’s hammer pendant that he was looking for, on its plain black waxed cotton cord, nestled amongst some unused cufflinks that he’d been given. Then he slipped the whole box into the safety of one of his rucksack pockets, thinking he’d give the pendant to Marcie later.

He was leaving lots of clothes that he rarely wore behind, like his one smart suit and some old jackets, but he figured he had plenty to be going on with, so he moved on down his remembered list. First he went through to the small bathroom to bundle some toiletries into a sponge bag, then paced back across the main room to his shelving units. Marcie had dropped a stuffed bin bag by the door, along with a smaller carrier bag, and now came over too. She explained that she’d found some things still in date which they could take home, then offered to help. He thanked her for sorting the food and rubbish, then they checked his bulging concertina file of important paperwork, looking for his employment contract. He found it but didn’t read it, then Marcie suggested they take the whole file, confirming that it had things like his passport and driver’s license in, which she pointed out might be useful for other admin things like the solicitor’s identity check.

Then they began browsing his CDs together, which were on the same shelves as his videos, DVDs and PlayStation games, behind the television, alongside the stereo. They agreed there would be no point bringing the DVDs and so on round to Marcie’s flat, or their shared flat, as she kept reminding Ben. She vaguely mentioned hiring some storage for when Ben really quit this place. That prompted Ben to share his own vague thought that he might be able to find some space back on his dad’s farm if it came to that.

Marcie had a bit of a laugh at the unimaginative titles of his dance compilation CDs, then had another laugh at some of the women posing on their covers. Ben had to reassure her that ‘hardcore’ was just a genre of dance in this case, which only made her laugh more. She suggested he just take all of them back, but he knew some were rubbish, so he quickly made a pile of around three dozen on the coffee table beside his stuffed sponge bag, remarking that perhaps they should collect one of the plastic crates from the workshop for these bits and pieces.

Marcie took a more serious interest in his meagre collection of books, stacked carelessly in an old cardboard box. He showed her some of his work-related books that he’d saved from his studies, big floppy paperbacks with titles like The Tree and Shrub Expert and The Tree Climbing Professional, which he’d packed away with his old coursework folders. She was also intrigued by the hardback books that he’d saved from his childhood. She quickly admired a pair of Winnie-the-Pooh books and a collection of animal stories with vividly daubed illustrations. “Let’s just take the whole box,” she suggested, and Ben agreed. Then she asked, “What’s still on your list?”

Ben got it out to briefly glance at it with her, noting that he’d forgotten the art stuff for his sketching, then saying that he’d collect the tools too. He found his old pencil case, some quality paper and a modest watercolour palette in yet another box on the shelves, which he also checked for decent brushes. Then he explained there were the basics for DIY in the toolbox that he pulled off the shelves too, saving them the need to dig around in the workshop downstairs. As he opened it to check what was inside, he thought of the weighty craft knife and other model-making tools on his work table. Marcie innocently asked if his hammer was already in the box, and Ben realised she’d read but misinterpreted his cryptic reminder about his Norse pendant. He still wanted to keep the surprise for later though, so he played along with her question, showing her the claw hammer that happened to be buried in the toolbox’s bottom compartment.

As he rose to cross the room to collect his crafting tools, Marcie was keen to see his work in progress as well as his other models, commenting that she’d not really taken them in before. However, she’d obviously noticed them now, as she gestured to them on the high windowsills around the large room. Ben showed her the frame of the hull that he’d barely started, then lifted down a couple of the models that he was most proud of. There was a three-masted clipper in a bottle that he thought didn’t look too amateurish, and the large frigate that he’d carefully rigged to match the Danish training ship that he’d been on. As he lifted it down carefully with both hands, Marcie seemed very impressed, but noted how awfully dusty it was.

Ben said he’d get a duster from under the kitchen sink, and when he was there, he saw his shoe cleaning kit too, which reminded him of Marcie’s scuffed boots. He called to Marcie across the room, to where she was still admiring his model, reminding her of them and asking if she had her own polish and brushes. “Oh, are you still thinking about those old things? They really do tickle something in your eager male libido, don’t they?” she called back with a teasing smirk, “Well, do pick up your bits for them then. I’m honestly not sure if I have anything.”

Ben took a detour across the room to drop the shoe kit off by the toolbox and the pile of CDs, then returned to Marcie with the duster. She took it off him, started dabbing at the frigate’s dusty sails, then perhaps realised how difficult cleaning it might be, and picked up the ship in the bottle instead. She held it between them in one hand as they stood at the table, making deliberate repetitive firm strokes over the glass in a way that she obviously knew they’d both find suggestive.

“Hmm, well much as I’d like to linger here and rub down your marvellous ornaments,” she began, the smirk still lingering on her lips, “We do need to get this stuff back. Why don’t we take just one of your models home for now? Not the great big one maybe.”

Ben scanned around, his eyes settling on a Viking longship that he’d recently completed and felt quite satisfied by. It was only around a foot long and quite plain, but he felt that he’d perhaps caught the primitive spirit of the thing. He went to collect it as he explained this, then handed it over to Marcie so that she could give its wide low hull and single spar a little dusting. She seemed to reinvigorate his own enthusiasm for the model and its historic associations as she noted its features. When she asked, Ben explained it was based on a genuine ship found at Skuldelev.

She asked where that was, then began lightly teasing him about his obsession with Denmark, or perhaps their women. She jokingly asked him if there were tiny effigies of himself and Birgitte that he’d crafted, cuddled up together in a cabin of his big ship. He denied that truthfully, but still felt a rush of blood to his cheeks as he blushed, and in that moment he wondered why he’d reacted like that. Perhaps it was because he had indeed daydreamed about his brief romance with the athletic young Danish woman while he’d been crafting the barque, or perhaps it was because he now realised that Marcie had obviously paid close attention to his previous quick reference to Birgitte.

While Marcie kept delicately dusting the Viking ship, Ben gathered up his special craft knife, his jeweller’s screwdriver set and a few other small model-making bits. He carried them over to put in the toolbox, and Marcie followed with the model longship, noting she’d better get that plastic crate. After a brief negotiation, she agreed that Ben could come with her, to get his bike and the power drill too, as long as he was careful and had his inhaler handy.

As they left the flat, Ben picked some of the bags of clothes that he’d already packed to take down to the car, whilst Marcie carried the bags of rubbish and food. Ben then helped Marcie to open to workshop doors wide to let the fresh air in, despite the risk of a sudden breeze blowing up a cloud of dangerous dust. Marcie remarked on the great pile of offcuts piled by the door, and Ben confirmed that they came from his most recent job, left behind when the good timber was collected on Monday. She reminded him unnecessarily that the cedar may be dangerous as she noted the drifts of sawdust in it, and they carefully worked around it.

He pointed out where the drill that he wanted was, but he let Marcie get it to put in the box that she’d found, as it was covered in dust too. Ben got his bike out and chained it to the exterior stairs, not trusting the neighbourhood enough to leave it unattended and unlocked even for a few minutes. Then Ben locked up the big doors again as Marcie carried the crate upstairs. As he did so, he wondered when he’d next see or spend any time in that dusty space. He’d spent so long working there over the last five or so years, but now he guessed that was all behind him, except perhaps to supervise some kind of tidying up or handover. It felt almost as if he were saying goodbye to his old life as he locked up, hearing the primed alarm beeping in its familiar way as if it were a sad and lonely plaintive voice.

He jogged back up the stairs, noting that he felt fine in his chest, to find Marcie dusting the crate and the drill beside the pile they’d made. He helped her stack the CDs and other things, packing some hastily grabbed cushions around the model ship on top. Ben then carefully carried the crate, which was now quite heavy, down to the car, whilst Marcie followed with the box of books, into which she’d also stuffed his file of important papers.

They made one more trip up to the flat to check they had everything, Ben tidying up the things left on his shelves a little. Then they were back outside, Ben locking up before moving to the foot of the stairs.

“Well, that seemed to go okay,” Marcie remarked brightly as she took his hand. Ben agreed, breathing easily with a contented smile. Marcie went on, “Are going to be okay cycling back now? I’ll start unloading the car as soon as I get back, but I guess you won’t be far behind me.”

Ben reassured her that he’d be fine, then she leant up to give him a big wet kiss, telling him how brave he’d been as she pressed her chest to his. Then she’d released his hand and was making for the car. Ben watched her get in, start it and manoeuvre it around as he unlocked his bike, returning her wave as she drove off, then he pushed off and began steadily pedalling, being careful not to overexert himself.

He found the ride straightforward, with the traffic lighter than it had been earlier, even though the route was a steady climb. When he pulled into Marcie’s street, he was surprised to see her car blocking the road with its hazard lights flashing and its doors open. He saw her emerge from the flat, seemingly a little flustered, to pick up the crate full of his things from the open boot as he quickly pulled over onto the pavement beside her.

“This is the last one,” she said breathlessly as she staggered through the front door. As she carefully dropped it down in the hall at the end of a line made by his other bags and boxes, she turned to explain, “I couldn’t find a parking space nearby, so I decided to just stop and get it all unloaded quickly. I’m okay,” she added, as Ben raised an arm in concern, though she was panting as she spoke, “I’ll move the car now. Maybe you could put the food in the fridge, then we can leave the rest while we pop upstairs for that coffee with Shona.”

Ben followed her out, watching her as she got into her car and then quickly drove off. He gave an apologetic wave of thanks to someone who’d driven their own car behind hers to queue, then he pushed his bike down the pavement a little way to lock it to a convenient signpost. Back at the flat, he swung the door to, slipped off his shoes, then found the carrier bag of the things Marcie had rescued from his kitchen. He took these through to put away in the fridge and cupboards as Marcie had suggested, then he went back to the hallway to start moving things into the spare room for the time being.

Marcie found him there, and though she still seemed a bit hot and bothered as she came in, she gave him a warm smile as she reached out for a big hug. As he buried his face against her hair, she sighed and murmured, “Welcome to your new home, my big hearty lion.”

He kissed her, tenderly at first and then, as he found her lips parted, with rising passion, playing the tip of his tongue against her lips, before both of them began pushing their tongues eagerly forwards, holding each other close. Though he still felt a little woolly from last night’s excesses, the bike ride had re-energised him somewhat, and he would eagerly have carried on. But Marcie was the voice of reason, pulling away to say, “Come on, you hungry beast, we’ve got a date to keep with Shona before our appointment with Mister Michaels.”

She rubbed his head playfully as she backed off to let him put his shoes on, then she led him outside by the hand. She was about to ring the bell beside Shona’s front door when she remembered his bike, which she’d just noticed chained up further down the road. After suggesting he get it, she waited while he went to unlock it, then held the flat’s door open for him as he pushed it inside, using the space he’d already cleared of his other stuff. He felt a little sheepish as he pushed it past her onto the carpet, trying to apologise and thank her at the same time, but she just told him not to be so daft. She reminded him that they’d already agreed this would be how they’d do it for the time being, smirking as she told him that there were worse things she could think of than having his rugged bike parked in her bedroom corridor.