'Leave it to soak for a couple of minutes, darling.'
She dropped it into the sink, knocked the remaining pieces in after it, and tore off her gloves. Her eyes darted about the kitchen, as she hunted for signs of catastrophe.
'I washed the floor in here,' I offered.
'I didn't think it needed it,' she said.
'It was busy today. We're nearly out of sausage.'
'I told you to buy more last Saturday.'
'How were the roads?'
She went back to the till. 'Haven't you cashed up yet?'
'I haven't had the chance,' I said, hating the whine in my voice.
She started scooping change out of the till and onto the worktop in short, compulsive jerks. She scraped pennies into her palm, counting them much like a Macanese croupier deals cards in the Jai-Alai: with an expression somewhere between boredom and contempt. I watched her fingers curl and jerk. She wore her nails short now, and even so one of them had torn. The skin on t