Still Waters (Charlie Resnick #9)(17)
Nine “Whatever sort of time do you call this?”
“Um?”
“I said, whatever sort of time …”
“Alex, please, don’t start. Not the minute I get home.”
“I’m not starting anything. I was merely worried …”
“You weren’t worried, Alex, don’t pretend. You just can’t stand the thought that I might have been doing something on my own. Enjoying myself without you.”
“Jane, why so hostile?”
“I really can’t imagine. I must be premenstrual, that’s what it usually is. Or else it’s school. That’s it, the stress of my job.”
“I do sometimes wonder …”
“Yes?”
“Well, you know, whether you wouldn’t be better off moving to part-time …”
“We’re not going to start this again, are we?”
“I’m only thinking of you.”
“Of course.”
“If you did mornings, afternoons, maybe just three days a week …”
“Alex, we’ve been through all this; it just isn’t practical.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Because it isn’t, that’s why. Because if I went part-time, always supposing that were possible, which as things are going it might not be—then I wouldn’t be doing the same job.”
“I would have thought it would be the same, essentially anyway. More time to yourself.”
“Alex, I don’t want more time, that kind of time. Time to get the shopping, do the washing.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“You know very well, I enjoy what I do and I certainly don’t want to risk losing the little bit of responsibility I’ve got.”
“I should hardly have thought getting kids to watch EastEnders in school time constituted responsibility. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m not being funny.”
“No, you’re not.”
“All right, why don’t we stop all this?”
“A good idea.”
“Come here.”
“No, Alex, I …”
“Come here.”
“Alex.”
“Sweetheart, I shouldn’t have shouted at you, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t shout.”
“Nag you, then. Get on at you, whatever.”
“It’s all right, just let me …”
“Stay here for a minute, come on.”
“Alex, the dinner.”
“Bugger the dinner!”
“No, Alex, really. Besides, I’ve got to go out again afterwards.”
“What d’you mean, go out?”
“A meeting. Finalizing the arrangements for the day school. It shouldn’t take long. But I do have to leave at seven.”
“Seven! It’s a wonder you bother to come home at all.”
“Oh, f*ck off, Alex!”
“What?”
“You heard me, just f*ck off. I can’t do a bloody thing without you interfering, trying to make me feel guilty.”
“All I did was make a remark. Is that so terrible?”
“Yes. It feels like I can’t breathe without you standing over me, waiting to make some kind of comment.”
“Some wives would be pleased …”
“Would they?”
“At least I show an interest.”
“In criticizing, yes, making me feel inadequate. Why didn’t you do this, why don’t you do that?”
“Oh, don’t be so pathetic!”
“You see?”
“What?”
“You see what I mean. If ever I stand up to you, argue back, try to get you to see things my way, I’m being pathetic.”
“Right.”
“Poor, pathetic Jane, running around in circles, all the while fooling herself that what she’s doing is so important when anyone with a modicum of intelligence can see it doesn’t count for shit.”
“You said it, I didn’t.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Good.”
“You’re right, Alex, it was a mistake. I should have stayed at work, gone round to Hannah’s, gone for a drink. Anything but this.”
“Wait.”
“No.”
“Where d’you think you’re going now?”
“Anywhere. Out. I’ll be back around nine.”
“You’re staying here …”
“Alex, let me alone. Let go of me.”
“No! Don’t you run out on me. Don’t you dare.”
“Alex, you’re hurting. Let go.”
“I warned you.”
“Let me go!”
“I’ll let go, you stupid bitch!”
“Alex, no!”
“Stupid, selfish bitch!”
“Alex, no. No. Oh, God, please no. Don’t hurt me. No …”