As Howard opened the washing machine and pulled out his clothes, his heart sank; everything was blue. His favourite white shirt was now tie-dyed, his jumper had shrunk small enough to fit Albie, his grandson.
Margy had only been gone three days and he was failing miserably. He really had tried to follow her list. Some of the things seemed a bit extreme like polishing all the surfaces every day. Why when there was only him there?
Margy, at sixty eight, had got herself a last minute free holiday with Faye, whose husband had a chest infection. It was Margy’s first holiday without him.
He looked in the hall mirror, saw a seventy year old man. He still had his teeth, his hair was now grey, his face had a lived-in look. Shaking his head, he left to go to the local for a bit of lunch.
He lamented his troubles with his mate, Nigel, who laughed. ”Let me organise you. First there’s a lady on the estate who does washing and ironing. Next I’ll pick you up in the morning and we will go fishing for the day. A whole week of doing man things, including watching snooker on Friday. I hear there’s a great match at the Bear down the road. It will be like old times. ”
Howard looked sceptical, what about his list? He would have to lie when she phoned him, but the thought of a week reliving his youth was a temptation too far. He agreed.
Each day they did something different. Howard didn’t have to lie, just didn’t mention the fun he and Nigel were having, and each morning he did check the list and do some of the chores. Their bed had been a mystery with all the cushions and bolsters so he had slept in the guest bedroom.
The day Margy was due home Howard and Nigel set about making sure all was shipshape; the online shop had arrived . Margy, as always, was ahead on those things.
Walking in she looked around. Howard felt his ardour arise, his Margy looked stunning with her tan. He was sure she had lost weight and her step was lighter somehow. Pulling her into his arms, he whispered, ”I want to take you to bed right now and ravish you.” There was a twinkle in her; she returned his ardour.
Later as they lay in bed, discussing their time apart, Howard skilfully avoided telling an outright lie. Somehow she seemed different. Margy listened, smiling to herself. She knew about Nigel and their week, but Howard didn’t know about her little dalliance. Nothing serious, a bit of flirting was all but it had made her feel alive again, putting their relationship back to how it was, knowing that her husband loved her still. Idly, she wondered where she would find the list that was meant to keep him too busy to go out and enjoy himself.
