He felt his heart constrict with his love for her. If only she would admit that her compulsive buying was getting out of hand. The house they lived in was huge by anyone’s standards, but she was gradually filling it up with more and more boxes of food, talcum powder, even bloody dried milk. She bought stuff they would never even use, like the tins of chilli con carne, and the boxes of dried fruits. It was completely without logic. If they lived to be a hundred, they could never use it all. In the spare bedroom, she had piled up box after box of cereals, every kind. Big packs that were all out of date, along with tins of tuna and tins of pilchards.

‘She’ll need a big appetite won’t she, Josephine? There is more cereal in this house than in fucking Tesco.’

He saw the hurt on his wife’s face and immediately felt bad, as though he was in the wrong. Her eyes were filling up with tears, and he sighed. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Josephine, but surely you can see that this is getting out of hand? Look around you, darling. This place is like a fucking warehouse. We don’t even eat any of it. I tried to use a tin of beans the other week and you nearly bit my head off.’

Josephine rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘There were tins in the cupboard. You didn’t need to open the case up. I explained that to you.’

He picked up his daughter, pulling her from his wife’s lap. ‘Listen to what you’re saying, Josephine. Who gives a flying fuck where a tin of beans comes from, I ask you? And, as we have more beans in this house than a fucking army canteen, I would have thought you’d have welcomed someone actually eating the fuckers. They aren’t ornaments, are they?’

Josephine was nearly in tears now. He forced himself to lower his voice, calm down. ‘I’ve got a couple of lads coming round today. They are going to move all the boxes into the garages, OK? I want this place clear when I get home tonight. It’s not a fucking depot, all right? It’s our home.’

She didn’t answer him, just looked at him with those huge pained eyes.