‘Bloodsucking parasites.’ Turning to toss the towel into the corner of the bedroom, on top of yesterday’s washing, he caught his wife’s eye as she came through the bedroom door. Diana glanced from him to the pile of dirty laundry and back, with that indifferent expression she wore permanently around him. She’d looked at him like that for years, like she didn’t even see him. It had been bad enough before the appalling circumstances surrounding their loss, and then that had caused her to withdraw from him completely. Up until then, she’d stood by him. She’d never quite forgiven him for the silly affair he’d had prior to their wedding, and he couldn’t blame her for that – he’d been playing far too close to home – but she’d accepted that it was a momentary weakness, that he’d given in to a temptation of the flesh. She’d been aware that her enticing little friend, Julie – who he’d hired out of the kindness of his heart – had her sights set on him. In a close office environment, sadly certain women did develop fixations on their bosses, he’d pointed out. He’d let Julie go, of course, with compensation for her trouble, which he continued to pay out on a regular basis – and which Diana had no knowledge of – but naturally the friendship between the two women had soured. There had been no further questions asked and the episode was consigned to history, which is where Robert considered it should stay.

‘I suppose you think I deserve this?’ He sighed heavily and watched as she bent to scoop up the washing, wishing she would look at him now with a hint of sympathy in her eyes. That she would offer him a small smile of encouragement. It was her smile that had attracted him, lighting up her features and cheering his day as he passed through the bookshop where she worked, before he descended into the bowels of the building beneath the shop to toil and sweat and build up his business. She’d been supportive of him then, typing up his correspondence, listening as he’d told her of his plans, his hopes and his dreams. She’d been beautiful when he first met her, and she was still a fine-looking woman. Always paying attention to her diet, she’d kept her figure well. Robert had to admire that in a mature woman. He’d been tempted to tell her though, on many occasions, that the scowl would only age her prematurely.

‘I don’t think anything, Robert,’ she said, walking past him to the bathroom to put the dirty laundry in the washing basket. ‘At least nothing you would want to hear.’

‘Which means what, exactly?’ Robert eyed her with despair as she came back. ‘That you do think I’ve done something to warrant this shit descending on me?’