‘No. You’ll only make it worse. By God, George, no wonder you can’t get on at work. It’s a wonder they even allow you to go there every day.’ She put the bowl of steaming water on the floor and knelt down. As she began washing the floor she was still complaining.

‘Honestly, you’re enough to drive a person up the bloody wall. You can’t do anything . . . anything . . . without ballsing it up in some way. Look at last week . . .’

George watched his wife’s ample buttocks moving under her apron as she worked and talked. The rolls of fat around her hips were shuddering alarmingly as she scrubbed at the floor. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself getting up from his seat and kicking her as hard as he could in the rump, sending her and the bowl of water flying. The fantasy made him smile to himself.

‘What are you grinning at?’ He brought himself back to the present with difficulty and focused on Elaine’s face. She was staring at him over her shoulder, her bright green eye-shadow and ruby red lips lurid in the glare from the strip light.

‘Nothing . . . Nothing, love.’ He sounded confused.

‘Just piss off, George. Out of my sight.’

He continued to stare at his wife. He watched as her strong arms and hands wrung out the floor cloth, her fingers squeezing until every last drop of water was gone. He wished he was squeezing Elaine’s neck. Instead he went towards the back door.

‘Where are you going now?’ Her voice was high and querulous.

George stared at her.

‘I still have some things to do in the shed.’

Elaine rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

‘Well, why on earth did you come in in the first place? Messing up the floor, causing all this.’ She spread her arms in a gesture of wonderment.

‘I just wanted a cup of tea. But I can see that you’re busy . . .’

He made a hasty exit from the kitchen and pulled on his gardening shoes again outside the back door. Elaine stared at the closed door for a few seconds. As always after she had ‘been at’ George, as she termed it to herself, she felt guilty. Guilty and flat. He was just so useless. Over the years, his placid acceptance of their way of life had driven her mad. Sighing, she carried on washing the floor.

Inside his shed, George bolted the wooden door and leant against it for a few moments, the sweat cold on his forehead. Licking his lips, he closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply.

One of these days Elaine was going to get a shock. She was going to open her mouth once too often. He could feel the hammering of his heart against his ribs and placed his hand over it as if to quell the movement.