The Function to Breathe

Thirty Three

2016

Our lives in London are busy, busier than I'd ever anticipated. Our house finally gets finished and we move in just a few weeks before I start at university. The same week I become a student again Ricky goes up to Manchester to film the blind auditions for the new series of The Voice. He's away for a couple of weeks but leaves Simon and Peanut to keep a close eye on me – not checking up on me or spying – just making sure I'm okay.

Then, only a few days after he's back from Manchester Ricky takes on a new challenge as DJ on a Sunday morning programme on a relaunched radio station in London. He's nervous, incredibly so, and it really does show for the first few weeks, but he soon settles into his stride and I love listening to his mad ramblings on a Sunday morning while I'm working on my assignments. We often meet friends for Sunday lunch and drinks afterwards then stagger home to spend the evening curled up on the sofa.

We spend Christmas with Ricky's parents and go away for a few days in January for his birthday and then I'm back at uni again, working hard on my collection and loving every minute. Ricky is in and out of the studio with the band, sometimes in Leeds, sometimes in London, occasionally elsewhere. Life is busy but amazing and I'm coping with it better than I ever thought possible. I feel so good that I'm slowly weaning myself off the anti-depressants that Andrea prescribed last summer.

One day in January just after Ricky's birthday I emerge from the underground station not far from our house on my way home from that day's lecture and my phone beeps loudly as it picks up a signal. Pulling it out of my bag I glance down at the screen with a smile, Ricky has sent me a message;

Text me when you get off the train and I'll run you a bath. X

I smile again and tap out a quick reply telling him I'll be about ten minutes, not sure if I'm now looking forward more to seeing him when I get home or sinking into a lovely hot bath. Ricky of course, but it's pretty close.

The predicted ten minutes later I walk up to our front door and before I've even got my key in the lock the door opens and Ricky is standing there smiling at me, pulling me in for a kiss and then telling me to go straight upstairs as the bath is ready.

The house is lovely and cosy after the bitter winter weather that finally arrived a few days earlier and I can smell inviting aromas of food coming from the direction of the kitchen.

"Are you cooking?" I ask as I head for the stairs. That would be another lovely treat as I do most of the cooking – not that I mind, but it's nice to be cooked for every so often.

"I might be."

"What is it? It smells lovely." Whatever he's cooking really does smell good, rich and meaty and garlicky, as if it's been cooking for hours already.

"That Greek lamb thing you like."

"Kleftico?" It's one of my favourite dishes and I know it takes ages to cook. I hardly ever make it because it takes so long.

"Yeah, it took me ages to find the recipe this morning. I had to phone Tara in the end, I couldn't remember what it was called." Ricky shrugs as if he's a bit embarrassed and flaps his hands in the direction of the stairs, "Get up there and get in the bath before it goes cold."

I undress in the bedroom and go through to the ensuite bathroom, which is pretty spectacular. We really went all out when we had it done up and it's got a big free standing Victorian roll top bath as well as a walk in shower and the usual basin and toilet. We even had the lighting wired so that the bath could be lit separately from the rest of the room, which makes it lovely and cosy and rather romantic, particularly if you light a few candles. Ricky and I have shared some very sexy evenings in here since we moved in.