...
"You are going to...?" I left the end of the sentence hanging in the air, hoping she would tell me. She smiled and nodded.
"Yes," she said. "Can I have a drink first?"
I opened my mouth to tell her I didn't have anything in but instead nodded, stepped aside, and she walked through the door for the first time in five years.
"You haven't done much with the place," she said, her nose wrinkling in disapproval. "The paint's peeling." I shrugged.
"Can I take your coat?" I asked. She nodded and turned, sliding the garment off her shoulder. She had a new tattoo, I noticed. A frog sitting by her neck. It looked as though it was blowing a kiss. "I haven't got much in," I said. "I can offer you water, tea. I might have something stronger in the cupboard under the sink."
"Drain cleaner," she asked, and her laugh twinkled in the dingy light of the hallway. "Water is fine. Thanks."