‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘Bloody Ernie.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘We should do something.’

Sharon shook her head. ‘Pete’ll call if they need us.’

‘Bugger that, hey. Getting burned up. Worst way to go.’

‘He’s not dead.’

‘Yeah, well . . .’ her husband stopped. ‘Wonder what’ll happen to his crops.’

She laughed. ‘I imagine they’re toast. You want them, do you?’

At the sound of her laugh he gripped his teeth together. ‘What’re you laughing for?’

‘You want to smoke it?’ she asked. She couldn’t help herself now. ‘Or do you want to start dealing?’

‘Well, his sons’ll be too busy looking after him, so somebody’ll need to help.’

She kept right on laughing.

‘Shut up,’ he said. ‘I could do it.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘Where do you get off?’

‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Seriously. Give it a shot. Drive out there and start running the business.’

‘Shut the hell up, Sharon,’ he said, getting out of bed quickly. He went into the bathroom, slammed the door. A petulant child chucking a tantrum.

She thought she’d say so. ‘You done with your tantrum then, you big sook?’

The shower came on. Somehow his impotence was worse than anything. He was so weak. Couldn’t even stand up to his own wife. Just whined and complained about everything until somebody fixed it for him. It made her sad. She was done blaming him.

‘You know what?’ she yelled over the sound of the running water. ‘I’m done with it.’

No telling if he could hear her or not. So she opened the door a crack. The sound of the fan sucking up steam.

‘Can you hear me?’ she yelled.

‘What?’

‘I said, that’s it. I’m done with it.’

‘With what?’

‘I’m done with Ernie, with all that.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Sure.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘You got about as much chance of standing up to Ernie as I do running his business, Sharon. Some people just aren’t born for certain stuff and we aren’t born for that. We just gotta make life as good as we can for ourselves and that’s all. Nothing else we can do.’

She stood letting the steam swish against her. Could feel some of her resolve being drawn from her, like her husband held a syringe.

‘Yeah?’ she finally said. ‘Well, I’m still done.’

She breathed hard, the moist air filling her lungs, her mouth. ‘I gotta go in to work today.’

‘So go.’

‘Jack quit yesterday, I need to cover his shift.’

‘Why’d he quit?’

‘Because I’m a corrupt, worthless bitch, I guess.’

She dressed in her uniform, strapped the Smith & Wesson to her waist, the badge to her hip. She tucked her shirt into her pants. Put on the blue tie. She looked at herself in the mirror. Some pride in her appearance today. Her face bore her years and she was proud that she was still here, still alive. Every line a smile. Wasn’t that what they said? She looked away. Lot of garbage to make people feel better about having wrinkles.