Tony pushed open the front door, the scent of fresh coffee drifting from the kitchen. The clatter of pans told him Mia was in one of her good moods. He dropped his battered backpack by the hall stand, the same one he always stuffed with his lunch sandwiches. His arms were heavy from a day spent wrestling the long water-fed pole against endless panes of glass, the fatigue already fading at the thought of her. Tony had lived in Kingston all his forty-five years, working as a window cleaner the locals relied on. Everyone in town knew him, and he was greeted with nods and smiles wherever he went, a man respected for his hard work and steady presence.
'Babe, you're home early,' Mia called, her voice warm and teasing.
'Yeah,' Tony replied, stepping into the spotless, ordinary kitchen, nothing fancy.
She was there. Blonde hair loose over her shoulders like soft sea waves, green eyes bright against red cheeks. pink shorts, white socks, a plain white vest. Glowing in the afternoon light. Beautiful, always, Tony thought as he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth.
'Had a few cancellations. Thought I'd come back to you instead.'
She smiled against his lips, holding him close. 'Good boy,' she said, her voice a little higher than a whisper. 'Did you get the toast? Or forget, as usual?'
Tony winced, half-grinning. 'Yes, babe. But forget them in the van.'
She swatted him playfully on the backside with a tea towel. 'Then go get it, mister.'
Chuckling, Tony headed back outside. The street was washed gold by the sun. 'Wonderful afternoon,' he mumbled. As he reached the van, the postman waved.
'Alright, Tony.'
'Alright, Mike.'
'Got something for you, mate,' the postman said warmly.
Tony accepted the plain white envelope stamped with HM Courts and Tribunals Service, tucked it alongside the paper bag he had fished from the van, and returned inside.
By the time he stepped into the kitchen again, he was already tearing the envelope open. He read it out loud, half to Mia, half to himself:
'Jury summons… Southwark Crown Court, One English Grounds, London SE1… 28 February 2025.' He pulled a face. 'It is a legal requirement that you attend, failure may result in a fine under the Jury Act 1974. Confirm your attendance, and something about travel expenses, probably a bus ride and a bag of crisps,' Tony said.
As Tony folded the letter and placed it on the microwave, he muttered, 'Well, that's boring.'
'Mia looked up, eyes bright with curiosity.
'Are you going?'
Tony shrugged. 'Letter says you can't say no unless you've got a good reason, and I don't. It's about a month away, hopefully they'll settle before it gets to trial. That's usually how it goes.'
'Well, if it does not. Then go,' Mia said, leaning against the counter. 'Might be fun, or just sitting around all day.'
'Sounds bloody boring if you ask me.' He kissed her again. 'Anyway, how long until you're ready?'
'About an hour.'
'Alright, hon. I'll grab a shower while you get ready.'
Mia laughed softly, shaking her head as she watched him go. 'Good boy,' she teased again, her voice trailing after him down the hall.
In another corner of London, laughter and love gave way to smoke and calculation as Tim struck a lighter and drew on his expensive Colombian cigar.
Tim leaned back in his leather chair. A gold Rolex watch glinting under the soft desk lamp. His phone buzzed once, twice, then connected. The voice on the other end was low, cautious, but laced with familiarity.
'Tim.'
'Rory,' Tim said softly, almost tender. 'I sent you some important info about the trial. Did you get it?'
'They told me something came, but it hasn't reached me yet,' Rory muttered. His voice was tense, quick, as if every second on the line was borrowed.
'I'm gonna get you out of there, man. Don't worry,' Tim said. His tone carried both a calm certainty and the faint edge of concern. 'I've got a plan.'
'Are you sure this will work?' Rory pressed, his words sharp with doubt.
'It's been three months since they took you in,' Tim replied, steady, almost reassuring. 'The court's coming next month. Don't lose faith. Trust me!'
Rory pressed his back to the cold tiles of the prison toilet, the smuggled phone hot in his hand. He glanced at the door, paranoia flickering in his eyes, listening for footsteps in the distance. 'I have to go now,' he whispered urgently, his voice tightening. 'Someone's coming.'
And the line went dead. Tim exhaled slowly, pressing the phone flat against the desk. Worry flickered across his face, but underneath it sat the quiet conviction that his plan would work.
The restaurant glowed with soft lighting, the hum of polite conversation drifting across polished tables. Tony sat across from Mia, watching the candlelight flicker in her eyes. His own brown eyes and tanned skin told of long days working under the sun, his body fit and muscular beneath the white shirt and black trousers he wore.
Mia was in a red dress, nails polished to match, her face full of joy as she admired him.
The waitress set two menus on the table.
'Two glasses of house wine,' Tony said, not even glancing at the menu.
'I'll just have a Coke, please,' Mia added before the waitress could leave.
'Certainly, I'll get those sorted for you,' the waitress replied.
Tony raised his eyebrows once the waitress left. 'Since when do you turn down wine, babe? You feeling alright?'
Mia's lips curled, her face flushed with redness, her hand hovering over her stomach.
'I can't drink wine for the next nine months at least,' she said, her voice shaking but warm, her eyes close to tears.
Tony froze. For a moment the entire restaurant seemed to fade away. 'Wait… are you?'
Her eyes shone as she tried to blink the tears away. 'Yes, babe. After all this time, after everything, we finally did it.'
For three years they had tried, hoping against hope. But a genetic condition had always made pregnancy feel out of reach.
A grin split Tony's face so wide it lit up the room. He leaned across the table, took her hand and kissed it hard, then pulled back, trembling with joy.
'How long have you known?' he asked.
'Only yesterday,' Mia said.
And then Tony remembered. How could he forget what he had promised?
'Mia,' he whispered, almost laughing, 'you remember what I promised?'
Her eyes widened. She glanced around the restaurant. 'Tony, don't you dare.'
Before she could finish her sentence, Tony spared no time, already climbing onto the table. He knew if he had talked about it any longer with Mia, he would never be able to fulfil his long-awaited promise.
Conversations around them stopped mid-sentence.
'Excuse me, everyone!' Tony called out, his voice sharp and joyful. 'My wife's pregnant. And I…' He burst out laughing, struggling to get the words out. 'I promised, I promised, that if this ever happened, I'd celebrate in a way never seen before! And just to say, apologies in advance.'
He toed off his shoes. Gasps scattered across the room. He yanked off his shirt, buttons flying in seconds.
'Oh my God,' Mia muttered, burying her face in her hands, though her laughter shook the table as she pushed back her chair and stood beside it.
Tony dropped his trousers and boxers in one confident motion, standing proud. He felt victorious, as if he had ended wars and fed the hungry all at once.
A man at the next table spat out his wine. 'What the hell do you think you're doing, mate?!'
'Don't look, Margaret,' another hissed.
'Oh I'm definitely looking,' Margaret shot back.
Phones came out. Diners were filming, some cheering, others clearly annoyed.
'Are you crazy?' someone called from across the restaurant.
'I'm not crazy!' Tony shouted back, arms raised high. 'Just celebrating my way!'
A child's voice rang out clear above the commotion. 'Mum, how come he's got hair down there and I don't?'
Half the restaurant howled with laughter.
Security rushed forward, red-faced. This was not something they were used to dealing with, even with the nastiest customers.
'Sir, you need to leave, now. This is a family establishment, not a strip club!'
'Well, it's a shit strip club if that's your stripper,' someone shouted.
Tony hopped down from the table, scooped up his clothes and shoes, and grinned at Mia. 'Babe, let's go. Can you grab that sock beside you?' His eyes were wet with laughter.
Mia was laughing so hard she could barely reach the sock on the floor. She picked it up, clutching it in her left hand, while Tony grabbed her right. Together they walked out, the entire restaurant roaring behind them.