Jack stood in the hallway of his marital home. That kiss still burned on his lips. Her perfume stung in his nostrils. Not the heavy musk of his wife's choosing, this was the smell of, freedom. For an instant he'd allowed himself to taste it, to grasp at the chance of release. Pressed his fingers across the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes.
In the front room he pulled a bottle of Jamieson's off the cocktail bar, studied it for a moment then refilled a used low ball glass with a generous measure and swallowed it down. The silence was crushing.
Picking up the telephone receiver he jabbed his forefinger into the dial and dragged it round three times. The bell shrilled in his head. He lit yet another cigarette and waited. His Mother-in-Law's clipped voice answered.
'Hello Eleanor, can I speak to the girls?'
'Not now Jack,' she chirruped, 'It's not at all convenient. Can you call back tomorrow?' It was less of a question, more a Royal command.
'I want to talk to my children get them to the phone, please. '
She breathed out her disapproval, and the line went quiet.
He heard squeals echo in the distance, then the voices of his two angels.