Chapter 32

Night-times became a horror to be dreaded. He came to her room where she waited in her bed. He performed his duty. They did not speak during the event and they did not speak of it afterwards. In the thin morning light of weekday mornings, he took breakfast before she arose and they ate their dinner together when he arrived home before nine.

It should have been enough. It wasn’t, really.

And then one day, a Sunday, over a late breakfast in the sunny dining room with its walnut table, she announced, smiling, that she was in expectation of a happy event. He was genuinely delighted for her. And for himself of course. For both of them. Children would complete them.