‘A free hot drink?’

‘Yes!’ she said emphatically.

‘The petrol to get there probably costs more than the drink’s worth.’

‘My car is electric, so I don’t think so. We need more Christmas decorations, and I’ve a lot of food still to buy for Christmas dinner – they have a good cheese selection there. We need a Stilton. Stilton and port for your father.’

He did not want to go to any garden centre. Claudette went bonkers in them. Ever since discovering the loyalty cards she seemed to have organized her entire life around their monthly free hot drinks days. But of course, they were never free. On the last one he had attended with her, they had spent over six hundred pounds on plants.

Days before his redundancy.

Now he was conflicted. As a season ticket holder for the Albion – and this might well be the last year for some while that he could afford one – he badly wanted to go. But equally, if Claudette went to claim her free hot drink at the garden centre, God only knew what she might spend. At least if he was with her, he could prevent that. They could perhaps go on Sunday, but that would mean missing his golf.

As he dwelt on the dilemma, a voice inside his head sharply and clearly said, ‘Cancel the fat bitch’s credit cards and go to the footy! Be a man for once!’

12

Saturday 15 December

In the morning, the kitchen still stank of burned electrics and plastic. Jason, tired after an uneasy night of fitful sleep, sat in silence at the refectory table, reading the microwave instructions while eating his breakfast.

Behind him, Emily, a strip of sticking plaster across the two cuts on her cheek from flying glass, worked on emptying a packing case, thinking. She’d not said anything to Jason about the shadows she’d seen in the room last night, unsure now whether she had really seen them. Sky News was on, the sound low, but neither of them, immersed in their thoughts, looked at the television screen.

‘All I did was put the crumble in the oven, in a microwavable glass bowl, with clingfilm – which I’d pierced – covering it,’ Emily said.

‘The machine’s obviously faulty. They’ll replace it under warranty, for sure.’

‘I’m not sure I want another – at least not from that company. They’ll have to do a pretty good job convincing me a replacement won’t do the same thing. I’ll bring my catering one in from the garage in the meantime.’

‘I had a look online,’ Jason said. ‘I can’t find any other instances of something like that happening – other than idiots putting ridiculous things in, deliberately – and that—’ He broke off in mid-sentence, distracted. ‘Bloody hell!’

‘What?’

‘I don’t believe what I’m seeing!’

‘Seeing what?’

Jason pointed out the front window.

Emily looked, not seeing anything. ‘What?’

He pointed again. ‘Across the road! She looks like she’s dressed for a polar expedition!’