“You’re late,” she said.

“It was a long meeting.”

I sat down on the bed and lit a cigarette.

“I was worried,” she said.

“That’s nice of you. But there wasn’t any need to be.” I stroked the bedspread. “When did you buy this?”

“Yesterday, to cheer myself up. Have you had something to eat?”

“I cut myself some sandwiches.”

“You look after yourself very well.”

“I manage.” I took the bedspread between my finger and thumb. “I really like this. It makes the whole room look differ­ent.”

“You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“You can see I haven’t. Why should you care, anyway?”

“I know how long Council meetings last. An hour at the most.” She frowned. “You look as if you’ve been with a woman. You smell of it somehow.”

“I’ve told you. I’ve been at the meeting all evening. I came straight home.”

“You look like a cat that’s swallowed the cream,” she said. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

I stood up. “I’m tired. Good night, Susan.”

“Wait,” she said. “There’s something you’d better know. Sybil phoned today.”

“What? Has she found out something?”

“No. But she’ll suspect something soon. We can’t keep on avoid­ing them.”

“I can.” I sat down again.

“Joe, if you could see your face! It’s full of hate.”

“What the bloody hell do you expect?”

“Joe, it’s all over. We’ve lived through it. We’ve got to start again for the sake of the children. Don’t you know why I was angry this afternoon? Don’t you?”

“Your conscience, I expect.” Her hair looked very black against the pillow.

“Oh God,” she said. “Haven’t you abused me enough? You say you’ll forgive me, but it’s only words. You’re hating me and hating him all the time—”

“Let’s leave the subject,” I said.

“I would have done anything rather than hurt you. You refuse to understand—”

“Oh Christ. I understand you. I understand you through and through. I’m just a common fat slob and you’re sick of me. I’m not even a real man like Mark. You don’t want to sleep with me—”

“I don’t?” she said. “I don’t? Who started all this but you?”

“It doesn’t matter who started it now,” I yawned. “Honestly, I’m dead on my feet, Susan.”

“Did you know Jean Velfrey was home?”

“I didn’t. I don’t give a damn about her, and that’s the truth.”

For the first time since I’d come into the bedroom she smiled. “You went to a party at her place in London, didn’t you?”

“Nothing happened,” I said.

“I’m assured otherwise,” she said. “Aren’t you aware that there’s a phone service between Warley and London? And a postal ser­vice?” She sat up. “Not that I blame you, darling.” She pushed the bedclothes away.

I stared at her naked body for a moment, then started to undress.

She got out of bed and padded over to the door. She bolted it and came over to me.