Free This Way Out by Sheila Radley

had done and said all he could to help Christine come to terms with her mastectomy. With a marriage bond as strong as theirs, he had thought that it was his support that sustained her; that he was giving her all the reassurance that was necessary. But apparently not.
    â€˜ Of course you’re not a freak,’ he protested. ‘Haven’t I made that clear to you? God knows I’ve tried.’
    She smiled at him and stroked his face. ‘You’ve been marvellous, Dee. And that’s something else that’s cheered me up – realizing that I’m so lucky to have you as my husband.’
    Partially appeased, Derek rubbed his cheek against the warmth of her hand and kissed her palm.
    â€˜Poor Sylvia didn’t just have cancer to cope with,’ Christine went on. ‘She had an unfaithful husband as well. She’s divorced now, but I suspect that money’s a problem. All the same, she’s so positive and amusing and encouraging that she’s made me feel ashamed of my miseries. The way she tells it, every other woman in Suffolk is walking round with only one boob!’
    Unbidden, the recollection of the magnificently whole young woman who had pressed accidentally against his arm on the day of the traffic jam surfaced in Derek’s consciousness. A faithful husband in thought as well as deed, he dismissed it immediately and concentrated on what his wife was saying.
    â€˜So I’m determined that I’m going to be positive too. I’m going to beat this cancer, and you and I are going to live to a ripe old age together. Aren’t we?’
    â€˜We most certainly are.’
    It was mutual bravado, of course. For his part, Derek was still entirely pessimistic about Christine’s life expectancy. But at least he felt reassured that they were still the same invincibly bonded couple. It was not they who had changed, but their domestic circumstances. If something had come between the two of them during the past few months, worrying and frustrating him to such an extent that he had given Christine the impression that he didn’t understand how desperate she felt, he knew exactly what it was.
    Or rather, who.
    He could hear his mother-in-law now: moving about their house, destroying their privacy, consuming what little might remain of their life together …
    â€˜Is everything all right, Dee? Your eyes look very heavy, and your breath’s slightly off.’
    â€˜I’m fine.’ Unable to face her scrutiny, and unwilling to offend her with his breath, Derek let go of her and turned away to pick up his briefcase. ‘My hand’s been painful, that’s all.’
    â€˜Oh, and I’d forgotten about it! Let me see.’
    â€˜No, it’s all right .’ He tried not to sound irritable. ‘I’ll hang those curtains for you later. I’m going to change, and then take Sam for a walk.’
    His wife sat down at the table and began to fix the hooks on the other curtain. ‘You’d better work up a good appetite,’ she said. ‘Mother’s cooking supper.’
    Derek’s stomach contracted, as it had been doing at intervals all afternoon; ever since he’d been called to the telephone during lunch at the Haywain, and heard Hugh Packer at the other end of the line.
    â€˜No hard feelings, Derek,’ Packer had said cheerfully. ‘Just wanted to let you know that I’ll keep in touch. I’m ringing from your part of the world, by the way: Breckham Market. Happened to be coming in this direction this morning, and what should I see but a signpost to Wyveling, so I took a small detour.
    â€˜Nice village you live in, Derek. Very nice-looking property you’ve got. It’s vulnerable, though – you know that, of course. A prospective burglar, say, could approach it from the back along the field path and get into the house and out again without being seen. I think we ought to do something about that as