He’d had enough. Whoever heard of a KITCHEN painted MAGENTA? That was his wife’s latest suggestion. Mind you, nothing had been the same lately, as it used to be. It felt as if something had taken over the place. She was always there, like some kind of ghost. Haunting them. He liked his privacy. But she was there all the time. Watching.
He realised he only had himself to blame. He had invited her into their world. He had been bored. His job was becoming tedious. He felt as if he was on a leash. He’d told her that one day. Wanted some excitement before he finally retired. Wanted to go out with a bang. And there she was – the one to provide the excitement. What could he do with her? She was a strong woman, and she presented him with a challenge. But that was where the excitement entered in. Could he get her under his control. She might be a strong woman, but she had some weak points. She was vulnerable in some ways.
Now, he had achieved what he’d wanted to. And she was THERE. Always there.
White hot anger overtook him one day. He thundered into the kitchen, pointing his finger repeatedly at her. She thought he was going to hit her. But he stopped just short of that. It was the first time she had seen him like that. She sat silently as he threw the cups around on the kitchen work top. Perhaps he would calm down soon.
Eventually he thumped back into his Study, and the next thing she heard was the sound of a Beethoven Symohony thundering down the corridor. Silently, she picked up her bag, walked to the front door, turned the key in the lock – and left.