Another Life: Escape to Cornwall with this gripping, emotional, page-turning read. Sara MacDonald

stared at herself in a crackled antique mirror hanging above the basin. Put some moisturizer on her lips. Sprayed a little of Nell’s scent on her wrists and behind her ears. She had no idea who taught her to do this small, timeless act. As she met her eyes in the mirror she saw how clear and calm they were. The blackbird was still singing as if its heart would break. Clear into this moment Gabby stared, transfixed, looking into the mirror as if she had never seen herself before.

      I’m home, she thought. I’m home. She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the basin, as peace, and something far beyond peace, flooded through her.

      She walked slowly down the stairs and back into the kitchen. Mark had opened a bottle of wine and had poured out two glasses. He was leaning against the work surface, looking out into the garden. His face looked more serious in profile when his mouth and eyes were invisible.

      He turned as she came into the room. She stood just inside the doorway, suddenly unsure. He did not pick up a glass of wine and hand it to her, he did not move at all, he just stood looking at her. The atmosphere in the room became electric and unbearable. Gabby held her breath. The moment hovered and grew, needing to be broken with a laugh. Needing to be broken.

      Gabby swallowed and moved into the room towards him. He moved at the same time and they met somewhere in the middle. He placed his hands on the top of her arms and bent and kissed her forehead and both cheeks then drew back to look down into her face. Gabby could not take her eyes from his bottom lip. She longed to bite it. She reached up and kissed his mouth, once, hard.

      His eyes changed colour, his hand came up to touch her face and he bent to her mouth, gently at first, almost a question mark. Gabby, holding on to his arms for balance, opened her mouth to him, pressing against him. He pulled her to him, kissing her urgently now, and there was only the sound of their short sharp breaths in the warm room.

      He lifted her suddenly to the edge of the room so that her back was against the work surface, bent to her neck, pressed her so close to him she felt part of his body. She held the back of his head, pushing him to her skin as one of his hands started to undo her shirt. She could feel his hand trembling, then his fingers cold on her breast and his mouth warm on her nipple.

      With a small cry she started to shake off her shirt, pulling her arms out of the sleeves. Mark undid her bra and removed it, threw it behind him, stood away for a moment to gaze at her; then he gently took her bottom lip in his teeth and held it there as if he was about to eat her.

      Gabby’s hands moved to his belt and started to undo the buckle. Still kissing her, Mark helped her, sliding out of his shoes at the same time. He kicked his trousers and boxer shorts out of the way and slid her trousers and underpants down her legs, bending and pulling off her shoes and socks. There was the brief, awkward moment of their own nakedness before he pulled her to him again, kissing and touching her until she could bear it no longer.

      He lifted her up onto the work surface and slid into her making her gasp, lowering and holding her onto him. Gabby, gripping his shoulders, cried out as they moved together and came immediately. Then they were both motionless in the dusky kitchen. The sun had disappeared behind the buildings and Gabby was grateful for the coming darkness. One of Mark’s hands stroked her hair as she stayed buried in his neck.

      She shivered involuntarily and Mark held her away and whispered, ‘You’re getting cold.’

      He carried her upstairs and wrapped her in his towelling robe and placed her under the duvet. Then he made two trips back downstairs to get the wine and their clothes which he folded neatly together on the chair. Finally he got back into bed beside her and held her to him, and they floated between sleep listening to the last of the birds skittering and calling in the dusk.