It was a bit strong of James to object, considering he was the one who’d picked Sue’s hobby out of the adult education programme. ‘I said you needed an interest, not an obsession,’ he ‘d complained, when yet again she’d had no time to go to the shops, let alone cook dinner.

If only she could write a piece good enough for the class anthology, it would convince him she could succeed at Creative Writing. He’d even rang the tutor himself and asked her to include at least one of Sue’s stories in the selection. After all the hours she spent in front of her laptop, surely it wasn’t too much to ask.

This was the day after he'd come in from work and announced, 'I'm taking a day's leave tomorrow. What about a day trip to Brighton?' Sue said she was sorry, but she just had to work on her story. She did her best to ignore his exasperated sigh.

‘A work of fiction must appeal to all five senses!' the tutor had announced to the class at the start of the last session.

Sue could picture Mariana now, in her kaftan and bead necklace, arms raised like a priestess over her class. Sadly, most of the Creative Writing class group were housewives like Sue, more familiar with muesli than muses.

The first time she’d seen Mariana in action, Sue couldn’t restrain a giggle. A gasp rose from the class members and Mariana glared, swivelling her head round at such a rate Sue she was afraid her antique silver earrings would fly off.

Today, with a freezer full of ready-meals, Sue could concentrate on her latest story, the one inspired by a TV drama about a housemaid in love with a Lord - the owner of Debworthy Manor. She would follow Mariana’s advice to the letter, Sue vowed, as she scanned the work in progress on her laptop.

Lord Fortescue had ignored Alice at the May Ball, to which the Debworthy servants were traditionally invited.

Alice had scrimped to buy material for a dress, sewing late into the night to get it finished. But all Alice’s efforts had come to nought, or so it seemed; well-born Tara Heatherington-Smythe had stepped into the ballroom in her designer gown and his Lordship had whirled the glittering heiress round the floor in dance after dance. Poor Alice was left weeping on the terrace but Sue had been forced to break off at this point; distracted by Rex’s barking at the postman.

She’d opened the brown envelope with the familiar handwriting –her own- to discover it was yet another rejection. Not suitable for our requirements, she read. Wasn’t there one magazine that appreciated quality writing?

Never mind. Persistence would win out, Mariana had told her class, and with a bit of luck she’d have time to finish before James came home, expecting dinner. What was the first sense again? Ah, yes: Sight.

The moonlight shone on the ancient stone terrace, glinted on the balustrades and reflected in Alice’s eyes as she gazed at the French windows. Would the dashing Lord Fortescue keep the midnight appointment that they’d made by the punch-bowl? It was going well.

Sue glanced through the window and saw James, or at least the heel of his brown brogue shoe, crossing the porch. He was home early – good thing she’d stocked up on frozen pizzas. Now, what was next? Mmm... sound.

Soaring violins drifted from the ballroom. Hypnotic though the rhythm proved, she was conscious only of her heart beating as she listened for footsteps on the ancestral stones.

‘I’m home, Sue’. The door slammed and she heard James's keys land in the dish on the hall table. Now for the third sense: touch

Shivering in the night air, she felt the smooth warmth of a man’s coat around her shoulders and the languid breeze as his fingers brushed her neck.

James kissed her lightly on the cheek and Sue murmured a welcome.

She heard him say, ‘Would you like a coffee?’

'What? Oh, yes.’ Now what was the fourth sense? Taste; that would be easy...'

The taste of Champagne from his lips stayed with her long after he had pledged his love with a kiss.

As Sue's nose caught a tangy whiff of coffee from the kitchen, she realised she'd almost forgotten to include smell. Now, what about:

The scent of Lilacs drifted from the shrubbery and mingled with the pungent odour of smoke rising from guttering candles.

There! It was done; a story appealing to all five senses. All it needed now was a happy ending.

James placed a cup in front of her and, went off upstairs. Oh, good, he’d be occupied at his computer.

'My darling’, he whispered, ‘There’s a question I’ve been longing to ask you…' Sue heard nothing for the next half hour or so, until her friend Jean’s voice called from the hallway and she came into the room.

‘Hello Sue! Hard at it as usual. The door was open, so I walked in. Hope you don't mind.'

Sue smiled at her friend. ‘No, I’ve just finished. I managed to write my story and include all five senses. My writing tutor said they were essential!’

‘By the way, James going to some weekend conference, is he? I just met him carrying a suitcase down the garden path.'

Sue closed the laptop lid with a sharp click and looked up. ‘James? Did he say where he was going? ‘

‘Oh, I thought you knew - he muttered something before climbing into the front seat of a car, beside the woman driver’

‘A woman? What woman?’ Sue dashed over to the window,just in time to see the car pull away.

‘Oh, just some floozy in a kaftan. You know what, though, Sue – you need to add one more sense to the five you’ve been writing about.’

‘What’s that then?’ said Sue, slowly turning round.

‘There's a sixth one, that you seem to have neglected. Most people call it common sense!’