Free A Shock to the System by Simon Brett

was probably just the complaint of old beams at the impertinence of central heating, but again he provided an alternative, diminishing interpretation.
    The envy he felt was, however, qualified. He did not wish he had Merrily with him, her angular body by his side to be rolled over and enjoyed with comatose morning compliance. It was a pleasure to be on his own. No wife, no squabbling children to force him out of bed on some expensive errand of ferrying.
    And no responsibility for the attractive surroundings in which he found himself. The guest bedroom had been recently decorated. The straight lines of white gloss on the window-frames gleamed. The wallpaper clung close and lovingly round the contours of old plaster. The white emulsion on the ceiling and brick chimneybreast was immaculately even. It was the work of a professional, another sign of the financial latitude that bachelordom allowed. Graham contrasted it with the hasty do-it-yourself efforts of his own home, the slight mismatches of wallpaper patterns, the brushstroke whorls on surfaces that should have had another coat, the scalloped outlines of windowframes that Merrily had attacked with her usual imprecision.
    The guest-room’s one flaw, a breadcrumb edging of unpainted plaster around the washbasin, offered Graham no chance of ascendancy over his host. The basin was obviously such a recent addition that its installation was not complete; it was just a matter of time before ‘the little man’, obedient to Robert Benham’s dictates, finished the job.
    The cottage had ceased to creak. Either its beams had adjusted to the change in temperature or the passions in the other bedroom had been sated, and Graham felt a kind of peace. This was the life for him . . . other people to do everything, their services adequately remunerated, every offloaded responsibility a financial transaction rather than a tangled mess of duty, bargaining and blackmail. He needed to live on his own. A service flat was the answer, with ‘little men’ responsible for the tedious functions of cleaning, decorating and repairs, little men who could be bawled out for any deficiencies in their contractual obligations. The excessive responsibilities of family life might perhaps be justified, speciously, by love; but when love had gone, they became no more than a form of exploitation.
    Being away from Merrily and the children crystallised the thought that had been forming slowly over months or maybe years – that he had outgrown them, that mentally he had set them aside from his life, that they were not included in any projections he made of his future.
    Recognising this fact gave him a sense of relief, the feeling of a decision reached.
    But his repose was disconcerted by a flutter of fear. It was not the thought of the murder, whose shadow seemed now a source of strength rather than of panic, but the question of why Robert Benham had summoned him for the weekend.
    The reason given had been for an opportunity to talk about work, specifically about departmental staffing and the rival claims of maintaining the existing establishment and making cuts in the cause of efficiency. But Graham understood Robert well enough to suspect a deeper motive. The Head of Personnel Designate had had ample opportunity – which he had used – to check the relevant files, and Graham did not flatter himself that his own opinions on the subject were going to change Robert’s intentions. No, there was another purpose in the invitation.
    And though he could not yet define that purpose, the knowledge of its existence made Graham feel on his guard. He was not there to be consulted, but, in some obscure way, tested.
    The nature of the test did not become clearer as the weekend progressed. Everything seemed very leisurely, Robert’s office abrasiveness smoothed. As a pressured executive should, he took the opportunity to relax. And though this, like all his actions, was a conscious