She turned, fretful, mindful of the room. That the curtains were closed shutting out the brightness of a sunny afternoon and the faces she knew far too well. Not that they could see. She knew they couldn’t, not through an upstairs window. But still, just in case she took the few steps around the bed to be sure, overlapping one drawn curtain over the other in a sharp movement and letting out a frustrated sigh when they fell back to where they had been before she made the effort.
Secret Sunday
