She bathed and changed as soon as she got home, slicking her eyeliner into place. Then running out the door.
She was going to catch the bus and every time she thought about seeing Peter when she got off at the other end, her tummy swooped and soared. She wanted to see him, clasp him, and dance dance dance. Oh. Yes.
The bus came and she beamed at the driver. He more than beamed back. She found a seat, and then shifted to the window so a woman who had run for the bus could sit down and catch her breath. Phew.
After one more stop the woman turned, and put her hand on Kimberley's wrist. Kimberley looked at it, then leant her head on the woman's shoulder and heard her say, in the quietest of voices, 'There's luck in the very fabric of that dress.' Kimberley looked at her, saw that she meant it, and nodded. It was true. The luck and the magic shone through. And she was carried along on it.
She got off one stop early, it was a fresh and hopeful sort of day. And as she passed the florist stall she paused, and bought a bunch of spring daffodils in a feeling of celebration. She would give them to her love.