by Carol Coffey
The doorbell rang and Hazel glanced in the mirror again, making final touches to her make-up. It rang a second time as she quickly adjusted her dress and took one last look at herself. As she raced downstairs to open the door, Pete was already ringing the bell impatiently for the third time.
“Come on. Open the bleedin’ door, will ya – it’s freezing!” he shouted.
Hazel stood for a moment on the last step. She hoped Pete wasn’t in a bad mood. She took a deep breath before swinging the door open. She smiled nervously.
“Sorry, Pete . . . sorry.”
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