Bill’s patience was almost at an end.
‘How could you forget her?’
Anne rolled her eyes at the fuss her husband was making.
‘I didn’t forget her, Bill; I was just late, that’s all.’
‘It was five o’clock! Any later and they’d have sent the police around!’
‘I got there in the end and she’s fine, no harm done.’
Bill knew the woman he married had long since moved on. He gave Samantha a kiss.
‘Why don’t you go upstairs to bed, sweetheart, and I’ll come up and read you a story in a minute, okay?’
Samantha started up the stairs, but stopped and turned halfway up, and looked at her mother as if to say good night. Anne picked up a pack of cigarettes and went outside to smoke them. Bill sighed and watched his daughter continue on upstairs before he joined his wife.
‘You couldn’t have said good night to her?’
Anne drew back deeply on her cigarette and shrugged.
‘Well?’
A long, languid ribbon of smoke escaped Anne’s lips. How Bill used to love those lips.
‘Not every woman is blessed with motherhood. You were, Anne, never forget that.’
‘It’s a role that’s been dreadfully miscast in this case, I’m afraid.’
‘I understand things have been hard,’ Bill walked over to Anne and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, ‘but she just wants to be loved, surely you can see that?’ He pressed his lips to her neck, tickling the sensitive flesh with his hot breath the way she liked it when they were courting. She stiffened. ‘The woman I love is still in there, Anne, you could let her out if you chose to.’
Anne screamed and threw the lit cigarette at him.
‘I have no bloody choices anymore! The last conscious choice I made was to let you have your way with me, and since then all the decisions have been made for me! I didn’t want to be a wife and a mother. If I’d had my choice, I would have gone on to college and become a doctor, not a babysitter for a mute monster.’
‘That isn’t fair, Anne.’
‘No it certainly is not! It’s you who’ve thrust us all into this miserable life, Bill Stone, you. I’ll cook and clean and keep things looking presentable so as few people as possible know how we really live, because it won’t just be your reputation called into question if I don’t, but if you need someone to kiss scraped knees and yield at your touch, you’ll have to look elsewhere.’
He took a deep breath as she passed him, committing her scent to memory. He was fairly certain he would find necks just as proud, breasts just as perfect and hips just as fluid, but no woman would ever smell like her.
ns 18.68.41.141da2
