Barry blew out a column of smoke and then he tossed his cigarette into the sink. He stalked across the kitchen, wrenched the steam iron out of Megan’s hand and then knocked over the ironing board so that it crashed sideways on to the floor.

‘You—!’ he shouted. ‘You are getting on my fecking wick, you are! Why the hell can’t you keep your yapper shut and do what any good wife is supposed to do – cooking and cleaning and laundry and opening your legs when I tell you? Don’t you remember the promise you made to me in front of the priest? Honour and fecking obey! That’s what you promised! Honour and fecking obey! But no! What do I get? Nothing but fecking lip! You weapon!’

He dug his fingers into the hair at the back of Megan’s head and held up the steam iron in front of her face, dripping and hissing.

‘You think that breaking your hooter was bad? Your hooter’s healing, isn’t it? But let’s see what you look like if I give you the full-face branding! Then everybody’s going to be asking you, how did you get that iron-shaped scar on your face, Megan? Was you being careless when you was pressing your old fellow’s shirts? And you’ll have to tell them, no, I was always fecking nagging, like, and Barry needed to teach me a lesson that I’d never forget!’

He pressed the button on the iron, so that a jet of steam was puffed into Megan’s face. She squealed and flinched and tried to twist her head away, but Barry gripped her hair even tighter, and gave her another puff.

‘Don’t, Barry, for the love of God,’ she pleaded with him, but he held the iron even closer – so close that she could see her face reflected in it, her brown eyes staring at herself in panic. ‘I swear I won’t ever nag you again, not ever. I’ll do whatever you want me to, and I won’t ever argue.’

‘That’s what you said the last time, I seem to remember – and the time before that. I don’t fecking believe you. Didn’t I ask you pure polite-like to buy me some beer and some fags and what did you say? Go on, what did you say?’

‘I said I wouldn’t.’

‘Chalk it down. That’s exactly what you said. And is that what a wife should be after saying to her husband, when she’s promised to honour and obey him?’

He held the iron closer still, almost touching the tip of her nose, and Megan went rigid, trying to tilt her head away from it, and she let out a thin whining sound in the back of her throat. At that moment, though, the front doorbell rang, and rang again, and yet again, and the ringing was followed by a thunderous knocking.