After the magic and luxury of a proper home Christmas at last, the New Year came and brought with it the harsh weather and stark reality involved in home owning and everyday living. Cleo was relishing her new role as lady of the house and was happy to nest build while Tony struggled with the business of actually bringing money into their new set up.
Tony sat in the upstairs study, grappling with his latest business programming venture. The Classic Couriers database was causing him all sorts of problems particularly in the client's delivery address and billing address areas and the Microsoft Access application on his laptop was playing up, as usual. Tony hunted around his desk among his teetering collection of dictionaries, directories and diaries for his well-used and well-loved London A to Z.
'I could do with a small book case in here,' he muttered, reaching out for the worn paperback.
He heard a knock on the study door and turned around to see Cleo, dressed in a slinky black dress, holding a tarnished, silver candelabra in front of her.
'You look like Jane Eyre,' he commented without any authority on the matter.
'I found this in the attic. It's a coincidence isn't it. I say I fancy a candelabra and one turns up in our attic.'
'Well, it's in keeping with the house. I wonder what else is lurking up there?'
'Take a look yourself. I've only just skimmed the surface.'
Tony saved his work before venturing out of the study.
He stood at the foot of the ladder staring up at the black hole that led into the attic.
'Where's the torch?' he asked, still looking up.
'Here,' Cleo handed him the large Halogen torch she had been using for her attic investigations, 'When are you going to get the light done?' she enquired.
'Soon,' Tony answered, while slowly climbing up, 'When I get around to it. We could get someone else in to do it, your dad perhaps,' Tony had reached the top of the ladder.
Cleo stood on the landing watching her husband gradually disappear into the blackness at the top of the house. She stared up, listening to the silence which was broken by a clump and a murmured exclamation of 'God'.
'What is it?' Cleo called up into the gloom.
'It's just what I was looking for.'
'What?' Cleo continued.
'Stand at the foot of the ladder and grab the bottom for me.'
'What are you talking about; the bottom of what exactly?' Cleo insisted.
'A small bookcase,' as he said these words, the beginning of a small, plain, wooden bookcase descended from the attic opening. Cleo dutifully grabbed the bottom of it, then the middle, it was light enough.
'Got it?' Tony asked.
'Got it,' Cleo replied.
Tony let go and Cleo carefully set the unit down on the square Arabian rug that lay on the landing underneath the attic hatch.
Cleo stared at the newly found object, taking in its rugged plainness, as her husband climbed down the ladder and joined his wife's side.
'Well. What shall we ask for next?' Tony wondered.
It was on Cleo's mind to say 'a baby', but in the end she just smiled, 'we already have so many things,' she sighed.