Richard Bucket (pronounced Bouquet according to his wife though he still denies this) is going off to work. His wife Hyacinth exits the house with him to see him off. Normally, Richard kisses Hyacinth on the cheek; today, however, Richard is feeling bold. He misses the intimacy that had existed between he and his wife before their son was born. Their son is now twenty-three and is at university still because he hasn't decided what he wants to do yet. Richard, full of confidence gives his wife a kiss on the lips, jumps into the car and drives off leaving his stunned wife standing in the driveway of their house.
Hyacinth stands there for a moment before she turns around and walks into the house. "What's gotten into him?" she wonders. "He's always been affectionate, but he hasn't done that for years. Not that I'm complaining, I've missed how close we once were. Maybe that's it: maybe he's tired of not being closer to me after all we used to kiss each other all the time and we've gotten away from that a lot over the years."
Hyacinth goes about her usual work of tidying the house. She goes upstairs to the bedroom that she and Richard share, looks at the two double beds that had replaced the queen sized bed they had once shared, sits down at the foot of Richard's bed and wonders what has happened between the two of them. They are so distant now that they don't even seem to resemble the cozy couple they had once been. She lays down on the bed with her head on Richard's pillow and she can smell his cologne, aftershave and shampoo, a smell that was once so comforting that has now become almost foreign to her. She starts to cry; she loves Richard so much and she feels now that she looks back on the last twenty-three years that she has rather neglected him in favour of their son. Enough is enough, she thinks. Richard is worth more than this. This thought is the last one Hyacinth thinks coherently before she falls asleep.