Relatives on both sides had given us sheets and blankets and as our nine o'clock bedtime was still a few hours away we decided to make the bed.
Our bedroom overlooked the main road. (The landlady's mother, who by now I had christened 'Ladyfach' because she was so small, had her bedroom a short flight of stairs away from ours. We'd seen her briefly when we'd arrived, but she had since disappeared. I later realised she spent most of her time sleeping by the stove in her kitchen).
Apart from the bed there was a double wardrobe and dressing table in our room, but there was no other way of storing our belongings. Deciding that the quilt and one of the blankets would be enough to keep us warm, we covered the mattress with the other two blankets before putting the bottom sheet on.
Carefully, Peter checked that the blankets were placed squarely on the mattress, with the overlap on both sides being equal. We did the same with the bottom sheet, then tucked them in carefully. (Peter had done two years National Service, where things like that mattered, but he was naturally tidy, anyway).
We finished by putting the top sheet and the rest of the bedding on, Peter checking again that everything was centred properly. Then I remembered a bag I had left downstairs with a hairbrush and slippers and asked him to fetch it, while I finished the tucking.
I had seen little of the town on the only previous visit I had made, when my mother and I had come to view the apartment, so we went for a walk.
The old part of the town was approached by a very narrow street. Lime washed cottages, which had been the homes of fishermen during the nineteenth century, overlooked the quay and there was a steep bank nearby, covered with wild purple rhododendron. I could have lingered, but the breeze was cool, so we headed back up the hill.
Once home, I put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Peter drew the living room curtains and found they were too narrow to meet in the middle but, fortunately, a large safety pin on the window sill solved the problem.
'I hope the bedroom curtains are alright', said Peter, opening the biscuits. (Did I mention he's a pessimist?)
'We 'll put a sheet over the curtain rail if we need to', was my response.
Nine o'clock came, our appointed bedtime. We tiptoed upstairs very quietly and closed the bedroom door behind us. I was beginning to feel a bit like a fugitive.
Peter drew the curtains, checking there were no gaps, because any chinks of light would mean he'd be unable to sleep. (I was learning new things about him all the time). He checked his watch and wound the clock. At last we were in bed and as soon as we got in, Peter pushed his foot down to the bottom of the mattress and ran it back and fore.
'What are you doing that for?' I asked.
'Just checking everything is tucked in properly otherwise I'll have to get up in the night to put it right'.
What makes a lasting partnership? I've absolutely no idea.
