“I was sick of the make-believe. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. It surprised her she hadn’t thought of it before! She tried to explain that she was going to pay him forty pounds without fail next week. Well, I'll take myself off. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. ‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame.
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