He didn’t say anything; didn’t need to. Reluctantly, she lay by his side, listening to his snores, smelling his scent, a peculiar combination of talc and cooking fat. His hand rested heavily on her thigh, but inch by inch she finally slid out of his grasp and returned to her own bedroom.

She removed her clothes, sniffing gingerly at the woollen dress. Annoyed, she realised it would need to go to the dry cleaner’s. William could pay for it, she thought bitterly.

It was six a.m. and still dark when her door creaked open. Always she slept on tenterhooks, knowing that William was prone to wandering, not wanting him to come any closer towards her tiny single bed.

‘William?’ She pushed her hair back, pulled the cover up to conceal her nakedness. ‘It’s early. Go back to bed and I’ll make some tea.’

In the light from the hallway she looked him up and down. He had dressed – well, half dressed – in a greying vest, navy-blue braces holding up his brown trousers. She looked away, across the room, hoping he didn’t see the disgust on her face.

He shook his head and looked down at the faded carpet. ‘I have to get on,’ he said. ‘I’ve got so much to do.’

Her mouth twisted, bitter and resentful. What exactly did he have to do? Nothing. She, Anna, did everything. William had nothing in his life: no chores, no hobbies, no friends.

‘You haven’t got to do anything,’ she said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. ‘Go back to your room. I’ll get up soon and sort us out some breakfast.’

‘You don’t understand,’ he said, and his words were soft and low; his eyes, when he raised them to look at her, troubled. ‘My son is coming over.’

In the darkened lounge, Anna listened as William told her all about his son’s imminent visit.

Jason was his name. He lived in Spain, managing some restaurants and bars there. In the time she had been working for William, he had never come to visit. As far as she knew, he didn’t call, or write; in fact, the only sign there was a son at all was a Christmas card each year.

‘He wants to open another bar, a café bar,’ explained William. ‘And he wants me to go back to Spain with him.’

‘I don’t know if you’d like Spain,’ she said. ‘It’ll be too hot for you; you know you don’t like the sun.’

His eyes took on a faraway look. ‘It might be nice,’ he said. ‘I’d be useful; I could look after the kids while their parents are at work. Jason says they have bingo games every evening, and take naps every afternoon.’ He looked towards the window, at the bitter rain smacking against the pane. ‘He needs me, anyway.’