I went to the door of the room which now, I realized with a queer pang of regret, I could never again think of as ours. It was half open and the light was on.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I can’t talk to you like this. Come in before you wake Barbara.”

I went into the bedroom. She was lying with her head propped up by two pillows. The bedspread was pulled up to her chin, and her arms were underneath it. The bedspread was of bright yellow candlewick; I didn’t remember having seen it before.

“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?”