Adelaide, who had been married long enough that even the good quality towel-sets were beginning to fray, had only heard herself say ‘my husband’ three times. No, four. And all of them in the last six months.
Which was strange she thought as she watched him load the washing machine, because, apart from the flanellette pyjamas he now wore against his once-bare skin, he seemed not to have changed.
She scratched at her head, thought that in this morning’s shower she should have washed her hair, and vowed that tomorrow she would drink less water and eat more cheese.