He picked up the €50 note and waved it at her, but she said, with her voice trembling, ‘I told you, Barry. I have to go now and that’s all there is to it. If you want your fags and your booze so bad you’ll just have to fetch them yourself.’

‘What? What did you say? I’m too fecking langered to fetch them meself. You’re not so thick that you can’t see that. Jesus Christ, you’re me wife! You’re supposed to do what I fecking tell you!’

He stood up, but immediately lost his balance and sat down again. His chair tipped over and he fell backwards on to the floor, hitting his head against the door of the washing machine. Swearing and spitting and coughing, he rolled himself over on to his hands and knees and then crawled across the kitchen floor towards Megan, like some mistreated dog.

Megan backed away, towards the door. ‘Barry—’ she said. ‘Barry, don’t.’

But Barry took hold of the edge of the draining board and heaved himself up on to his feet. His face was crimson and he was in such a drunken rage that he was squinting. Megan went for the door but he lurched forward and caught hold of her arm, dragging her towards him. Then he punched her on the left cheek, hard, so that her head was jerked back and her knees gave way. She gasped, but she was too stunned to scream.

‘Remember what you said in church? Remember your fecking marriage vows, you miserable sketch? “I’ll go up the shopping centre whenever me husband tells me to and I’ll fetch him the fags and the booze that he needs and I’ll come back and make him a sangwidge.” Don’t you remember saying that, in front of the Lord God Himself? Or words to that effect?’

Although her knees were sagging, Barry was keeping Megan upright by holding on to her elbow. He slapped her across the face, twice, and then he punched her left breast. She let out a high, wavering wail, lifting one arm to shield herself and trying to twist herself away from him. But now, with his right hand, he seized her hair, wrenching it so viciously that she shrieked in pain. Then he slammed her face down against the edge of the kitchen sink, right on the bridge of her nose, so that the bone cracked, and blood spattered on to the porcelain. He paused for two or three seconds and then slammed her face down a second time, on her mouth, splitting her lips and smashing out her top front teeth.

Megan collapsed on to the kitchen floor, shuddering and sobbing. Barry gave her a kick on the hip, and said, ‘Look at the fecking state of you la. How’re you going to go out and fetch me fags now? You’re as useless as you’re fecking ugly!’