Nowadays, as he tried to explain to his wife, he could only manage one or the other – the fucking or the fighting. Unfortunately for him, his Carmel was a born arguer, and she loved nothing more than a knock-down, drag-out fight on a regular basis. It had been nearly three in the morning before she had finally let him sleep and, the worst thing was, he still didn’t know what the fuck they had been arguing about. He had to smile though, she was a game old bird, there was no doubting that. She never ceased to surprise him. She could pick a row with a deaf mute if the fancy took her. That had been what had attracted him to her deep down. Sure, she was a smashing-looking bird and good in the kip, but the fact she had never been in awe of him had stood her in good stead once upon a time. He had respected her for that. Now, he hated that she needed to have a tear-up on a regular basis; to prove that he still loved her he had to fight with her. He loved her as much as he was capable of loving anyone, but that didn’t stop her getting on his nerves. Her constant need for attention was wearing thin – the dramatics that had once been so exciting were draining him.

As the mother of his children, Carmel would always have a hold on his affection. His daughters were not exactly kids to be proud of, though. They were such a disappointment to him, even though he loved them dearly. They were both lazy, lacking in intelligence, and unable to understand the concept of hard work, let alone the importance of actually getting a job. He had trusted her with the girls, and couldn’t help feeling she had failed them.

He sighed, deciding not to think about any of that now – it already took up too much time, and it was a pointless exercise.