He smiled serenely as he washed his hands.

‘The perfect end to another perfect day.’

The stains were hard to shift but with some small effort he found himself comfortable with drying his hands on the pristine white towels.

‘Marianne’s mother bought us those.’  The kindly old dear always did give the most thoughtful presents.  Annie insists we keep them clean, everything must be kept clean, just as Annie wants.

He calmly rooted around the cupboard and began filling his mop bucket.  He’d get everything spotless for his dear sweet wife.  How many years was it now?  Fifteen?  Gosh, how times flies.

The greying mop hit the wooden floor with a dull slap, splashing bleach and water up the walls.

‘Oh well,’ he thought.  ‘I’ll have to scrub there next anyway.  Annie’s bringing a friend round tonight, I must surprise her with a lovely clean home.  She doesn’t know I’ll be here.  She thinks I’m out of town.  It’ll be a lovely surprise for her when she sees me here.’

He trod gingerly over a lot of mess on the stairs, obstructing his way.

‘I must remember the carpet cleaner for up here.  Can’t have all this spoiling everything when Annie gets home.  No.  It must be perfect for when she arrives, hand in hand with her young man.  He’s very handsome, her young man, almost half her age.  Isn’t my Annie clever?’

The landing seemed relatively clean.

‘No need for the mop along here.  Perhaps one or two spots, but that was my fault.  So clumsy…’

He took his work to the bathroom and made it shine.  He glowed with pride at what Annie would say when she got in.

‘I must hurry and get all this put away before Annie gets home, I can’t let her see all the work I’ve put in.  She’ll be all embarrassed.’

He traipsed back downstairs, absently dragging the handsome young obstacle behind him and casting it into the dark cupboard.


‘Can’t have you in the way when my Annie gets in, can I?’ he cooed gently.  ‘You’ll just get in the way, messing up our lovely clean house’

Into the cupboard too, he neatly tucked the stained and stinking mop, the now empty bucket and the broken shovel, before closing the little door with a snap.  With another detached smile he stood back and admired his work.

“Perfect,” he allowed the excited whisper to slip out.  It sounded strange and lonely in the deserted corridor and was followed by a low yawn.

‘Bed time, I think  Plenty of time to surprise Annie tomorrow, when she comes home full of laughter, her handsome young man on her arm.  How surprised she’ll be when she sees me there, smiling.  How she’ll shriek with delight as I take her in my arms and tell her I love her.  Oh, I shall have to practically drag her away from all the fun and games, and let her have a proper long, slow sleep.  “Don’t worry about your little friend, he’s asleep already” ...’

He returned upstairs, ready for bed.  Yet pausing briefly at the freshly scrubbed bathroom door, he opened it a crack and smiled at his darling wife.  She lay reclined in the bath; her hands reaching limply over the sides and her face a picture of pale sweetness and calm, a tragic look in her eyes.

“Goodnight, my love,” he said, almost silently.  ‘Sweet dreams.’