‘I don’t know. I just need to go to the bathroom.’ I went in, closed the door, put on the light and fan, stood with my back against the wall. I wanted to go and not go to Meredith, that was the truth. She’d be disappointed. But every move I made disappointed someone – it was a mathematical certainty. I ripped off some toilet roll for no reason, scrunched it, threw it into the bowl. ‘It feels like I’m manipulating you,’ I said, coming out, toilet flushing. ‘I don’t know if it’s right for you to be paying for things when I give you so little in return.’

‘You give me lots in return, beauty.’ Her plate in hand. ‘Why don’t we go to my room and you can start giving me something in there?’

Fucking hell, she was irresistible. And so was I, in her eyes. And because she saw me that way, I was powerless to persuade her otherwise.

She put her eggs down, led me through the hallway.

15

15

Agnë and the others were at a conference, meaning I was alone in the office, a quiet Thursday before the descent into a serotonin-taxing weekend and my longest time away with Biddy.

I yawned, looked at my watch – 9.33 am – sat at my desk scrolling aimlessly, flipping between Facebook and the work emails I wouldn’t respond to, between the New York Times and eBay, YouTube and – why not? – jobs boards. I needed a new job, was bored.

Marketing Manager Part-time, Adelaide Pet Cremations

Maybe not.

Bi-lingual (Mandarin) Digital Marketing Assistant

Hmm.

Oh, hang on. There was one at Monash uni, in the Faculty of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Sciences. Communications Manager. I could be a proper comms professional, a communicator by trade. That could only help in my love life. Fuck, it paid well, too – twenty grand more than I was on. With that kind of dough, I could … What could I do? The world was my clam, the shell was closing – this was my chance to prise it open.

I swivelled on my chair, scanned the office – nobody, of course – clicked on the link. You must always address the selection criteria when applying for a job. OK, so … Excellent interpersonal and communication skills. Yep. Two partners and LOTS of complex communication, some really excellent break-downs of a demonstrably interpersonal nature. A postgraduate qualification and/or relevant experience in media and/or communications. Oh. Yeah. Kind of, yeah … An understanding of ‘inclusive practices’. Everyone, regardless of colour, creed, ability or disability, was nominally free to sleep with me and, demonstrably, to sleep with my wife.

I had a week to apply or not apply. What was the worst that could happen? I’d be better off, that was all. I’d have money to go out with Biddy, buy clothes for the kids, put food in their bellies; Sarah would have money to go out with …