George stared at the man looking in at the window of his car. It was the car park attendant.

‘Yes, thank you.’ George smiled timidly. ‘I felt a bit tired, that’s all.’

The man made a salute and straightened up.

George watched him walk away, his heart hammering in his ears. He tried to get the picture back in his mind but it was no good. Trembling, he started up his car and drove into Grantley town centre. The books he had ordered were due in today. He smiled, enjoying the late summer sunshine and the exquisite feeling of anticipation.

It crossed his mind briefly that his ‘hobby’ was now becoming an obsession, but he thrust the thought aside. His leg was still sore and he rubbed it absentmindedly as he drove.

It was the end of September 1989.

Chapter One

Chapter One

Elaine Markham looked at her husband as he watched the television. His shiny balding head was nodding up and down as if he was agreeing with everything that the newscaster said.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, George! Stop agreeing with the TV.’

He turned in his chair to face her, a hurt expression on his face. Elaine closed her eyes. She could feel her hands clenching into fists and made herself relax.

‘Shall I make you a cup of Ovaltine, dear?’ George asked in his soft voice.

‘Yes, you do that.’

George went out to the impossibly clean kitchen and set about making the bedtime drinks. He put on the pan of milk and then, opening one of the kitchen cabinets, took out Elaine’s sleeping pills. Carefully grinding one between two spoons, he placed the powder in the cup with the sugar. Smiling, he poured steaming milk into the cup and stirred it vigorously. Then, removing two more of the sleeping pills, he took the Ovaltine and the pills into Elaine.

‘Here you are, dear. I brought your pills in for you as well.’ She took the drink and pills from him.

‘Thanks, George. Look, I know I go on at times . . .’ Her voice trailed off.

‘I don’t take the slightest bit of notice, Elaine. I know that I- well, that I irritate you is the word, I suppose?’

George smiled at her, the sad smile that always made her want to rip him to shreds.

She put the sleeping pills into her mouth and washed them down with the Ovaltine, burning her lips.

George was still smiling.

‘This tastes bitter.’

He raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his own drink.

‘Well, mine is fine, dear. Maybe it’s the aftertaste of the pills?’

‘Could be. I think I’ll take my drink up with me.’ She pulled herself from her seat with difficulty.

‘Night, Elaine. Sleep well.’

She stared at her husband.

‘If I slept well, George, I wouldn’t be taking sleeping tablets.’

‘It’s just an expression, dear. That’s all.’