He could see by the way she narrowed her eyes that the argument wasn't over by any stretch of imagination.
"I saw how that cane buckled, John Bates," she hissed. "You could have taken a nasty fall at the back door. Go and get a new one on your half day tomorrow."
"Don't fuss, Anna," he muttered back, looking quickly around to ensure they were being overheard. "I said I can mend it."
"You've already mended it," she pointed out. Her chin had taken on a stubborn jut, and John knew well she wasn't likely to be moved or give up.
"Then I'll mend it again," he said firmly. "I'm not spending good money on a new cane."
She glared a him a moment, then smiled. John began to sweat; he'd seen that smile before.
"The bells have gone," she said, as if they hadn't been arguing. "We'd better be off."
John waved his arm to indicate that she should go first, but she shook her head.
"You go. I'll catch you up."
He could feel her eyes on him as he walked with dignity towards the stairs. As he began to ascend, his cane wobbled alarmingly every time he leaned on it. Concentrating, he failed to notice that Anna was right behind him, following his progress with a scowl.
"Tomorrow!" she proclaimed, making him jump and grab for the bannister.
"Anna!"
"You will go to Ripon and get a new cane tomorrow, or I'll get one for you, and you won't like it." With that, Anna moved passed him on the stairwell, pressing against him perhaps more than necessary, and preceded him up the stairs.
John watched her march up the stairs, hips swaying angrily, and mused that there were compensations to loosing an argument with his wife.
