Susan Myers woke up next to Charlie, her husband of thirty-three years. She lay in silence in the semi- darkness, taking care not to move. She didn't want him to know that she was awake. She didn't want to have to speak to him. Through half-open eyes she watched the curtain as it gusted back and forth in the wind from the vented window, revealing snatched glimpses of the bright world outside. Was there any point in getting up? During the week she managed to fill her time with friends, shopping and social appointments but her weekends, Sundays in particular, were long, bleak and empty. Since Charlie had retired eleven months ago their lives had become increasingly dull and monotonous. Most of her friends had their children and extended families to keep them busy but all she had was him and he bored her. He seemed happy doing nothing but she couldn't stand it. He wanted to potter around the house and garden, she wanted to be out. She wanted to scream and shout at him and make him understand how she felt but she knew it would be pointless. He didn't even know she was unhappy.
Here we go, she thought as he shuffled and turned over in bed beside her. Maybe - just maybe - he'd roll over to face her this morning and put his arm around her tell her that he loved her and start kissing her and touching her like he used to. It had been so long since they'd made love that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. And on the very rare occasions she'd managed to get him in the mood (she was always the one who had to make the first move these days) he'd get himself so fired-up and over-excited that their passion, if it could be called that, was generally over and done with in a matter of a few desperately short and empty minutes. If it had been months since they'd made love, it had been years since she'd been satisfied.
Maybe she should have an affair? She'd thought about it before but never had the nerve to do it. Charlie probably wouldn't notice if she did. There was a man at one of the mid-week dancing classes she went to who she'd caught looking in her direction too many times for it to have just been coincidence. The idea of seeing someone else tempted her, but she knew she'd be putting a lot at risk if she ever actually did it. She was worried that she might end up losing everything she'd worked for with Charlie just for a little short-term excitement and adventure. She loved her grand house and her expensive clothes and all the associated trimmings. She loved the elevated social status it gave her and she didn't want to let any of it go. But what if the man at the dance class could give her all that and sex too...?
'Cup of tea?'
That was how Charlie started every day. No 'good morning' or 'how are you today?' or 'I love you' or anything like that anymore. Just a short, unemotional, truncated question. Should she answer or should she stay silent and pretend to still be asleep?
'Yes please,' she grunted, still with her back to her husband. She felt him throw back the covers and then slide out of bed before neatly tucking the bedding back into place again as he always did. Everything he did was predictable and safe. She could anticipate every move he was going to make. She knew he'd go to the bathroom next where he'd use the toilet, break wind, apologise to himself and then wash and shave humming the same damn tune he hummed under his breath every bloody morning. Then he'd put on his dressing gown, come back to the bedroom to fetch his slippers from under the foot of the bed where he'd put them last night, and go down to the kitchen. She knew he'd stop on the fifth step down to open the curtains and blow the dust off the top of the employee of the year trophy his employers had awarded him almost fifteen years ago…
She screwed her eyes tightly shut, buried her face in the duvet and thought of the man from the dance class again. She felt empty and depressed, trapped and angry. Sometimes she wanted to kill her husband. That, she decided, would be the answer to all her problems.
'Lovely day today,' Charlie said brightly as he returned to the bedroom with two cups of tea.
'It's always a bloody lovely day,' Susan silently screamed to herself. 'Even when it's raining and there's a force ten gale outside he says it's a bloody lovely day.'
'Here's your tea, dear.'
She cringed under the bedclothes and readied herself to face him. Saddest thing of all, she thought, was that he didn't have the faintest idea how unhappy she was. In his rose-tinted little world everything was just fine and dandy. He didn't know how old and worthless he made her feel and he probably never would. She took a deep breath and rolled over onto her back before shuffling up the bed and taking her tea from him.
'I had a lousy night's sleep,' she complained, looking up at him. 'I was freezing cold all night. I kept waking up because you kept pulling the covers off me.'
'Sorry about that, my love. I didn't realise.'
'And if it wasn't the cold keeping me awake it was your snoring.'
'I can't help that. If there was something I could do to…'
He stopped talking. In silence he stared down at his wife who scowled back at him.
'What's the matter with you?' she demanded as she sipped her tea.
Charlie continued to stare.
'For crying out loud, find something else to look at will you?' she cursed before taking another sip.
With a single sudden swipe Charlie slapped the cup out of his wife's hands. It smashed against the wall opposite sending countless dribbles of tea dripping down the pale pink anaglypta wallpaper. Bemused, Susan watched the drips of hot brown liquid trickling down the wall. What the hell's got into him, she wondered? In a bizarre way she was actually excited by this sudden display of unexpected forcefulness and spontaneity.
Behind her Charlie quickly yanked the waist belt free from his towelling dressing gown. Shoving her forward and gripping her shoulder tight with one hand he looped the belt twice round her neck in a single spiralling movement and then pulled it tight. Panicking, and with her eyes bulging and throat burning, Susan struggled to breathe. She kicked and squirmed under the bedclothes and scraped at her neck, desperately trying to force her fingers under the belt. Her strength was no match for his.
Charlie pulled the belt tighter and tighter until the last breath had been squeezed from his wife's body.
8
Another bloody wasted day.
Today started slowly. I got out of bed late (which really annoyed Lizzie - she had to get up and see to the kids for once) and I made a conscious effort to do as little as possible. I'm back at work tomorrow and I need to relax. I tried hard to do nothing but it's impossible in this house. There's always something to do or someone who needs you. Liz has been nagging at me for weeks to fix the bolt on the bathroom door and, today, I finally did it. It was the last thing I wanted to do but I reached the point where I couldn't stand her complaining about it every single time she used the damn toilet. Christ, the rest of us managed without any problems. Why was it such a big deal for her?
I worked on the door as Lizzie cooked dinner. What should have been a ten minute job ended up taking over an hour and a half. I had the kids running round my feet the whole time asking questions and getting in the way, then I didn't have the right size bolt, then I bought one that was too big… I lost my temper and almost kicked the door in but I finally fixed it. Hope Lizzie's satisfied. She'll have to find something else to complain about now.
And now here we are approaching Harry's house and the weekend's almost over. I genuinely don't mind Harry but he seems to have a huge problem with me. He doesn't think I'm good enough for his little girl and although he never says it as blatantly as that it's implied in just about everything he says to me. I can usually just shrug it off but when the day has been as frustrating as today and Monday morning is looming on the horizon it's something I could well do without.
We pull up outside his narrow terraced house and the kids start to get wound up and excited. They enjoy their time with Grandpa. Truth is they tolerate their time with Harry. They put up with it because they know they'll get sweets or some other treat out of him before they go home.
'I don't want any arguing today,' Liz says as we wait for him to answer the front door. I think she's talking to the kids but I realise she's looking at me.
'I never argue with your dad,' I tell her. 'He argues with me. There's a difference you know.'
'I'm not interested,' she says as the latch clicks open. 'Just be nice.'
The door opens inwards. Harry opens his arms to the kids and they run towards him, giving him a dutiful
