The old cutlery box

Her eyelids prise open as the first tendrils of morning light lever through cracks in the shutters.

In the distance, a month-old baby mews in protest at a disappointing start to the day.

She smiles softly and clasps the warmth of her partner’s back for one extra moment before rolling, yawning, into another day’s tasks.

A few steps down the corridor, and into the kitchen, light has already banished darkness.

The air is chill but not frosty.

From the fridge, a bottle of milk. A cupful of oats are set to simmer on the stove. She pulls open the drawer in the shiny new kitchen unit: all cheery pastel.

Inside: the familiar, battered, incongruous, wooden cutlery box.

They had picked it up in a jumble sale when they first squeezed together in a tiny bed-sit, and drew the curtain when the priest came to call.

It had just two large partitions to be shared by knives, forks and spoons, plus some smaller ones for peelers and teaspoons.

Danny had emptied the dishwasher. As always, knives and forks were tumbled together in one partition, some head to tail; large spoons dumped in the other.

Her mind sparkles with renegade memory. Some moments are misty. Some polished diamond.

She sits in the refectory at the Convent School with her best friend. They dig into their pudding with spoons. Sister Bonaventure chides them for not acting like young ladies. “Use forks with spoons, for deserts, girls!” Desert was always the best part.

She grasps the notepad and pencil clinging to the shiny fridge. After a moment’s thought, she scribbles a reminder, tears off the page and folds it up carefully, before tidying the old box of cutlery.

As she serves the creamy porridge into two bowls, Danny pads in, barefoot and bleary.

He opens the drawer and, reaching without looking, draws out a knife. He glances at it, bemused.

In the larger partition the forks and spoons are neatly snuggled back to back.

He plucks out a folded note, opens it slowly, and reads:

Bonaventure

Dance everlasting

Fork feasts with amorous knife:

Joins spoon for desert.

Without looking, she sees the raised eyebrow and the quizzical frown.

She comes close to his half-turned back and hitches her hands round his waist.

She rests her head on a convenient shoulder.

Smiles her secret smile.