It always happened on the last day of the month

Jilly woke long before the sun, a sense of expectation simmering inside her. Her mind still full of dreams, her eyes sleep heavy, she blinked at the silver light edging the bedroom curtains.

Expectation turned to excitement. Jilly rolled over and glanced at the clock. It wasn’t too early.

Slipping from her warm bed into the chilly air of the room, she dressed quickly in the clothes she’d laid out the night before – thick jeans and socks, heavy jumper – and crept onto the landing. The house was pre...