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went to, and all the glamorous people he used to mix with. She sensed that he still hankered for that kind of life, and it seemed to her that if he had the right woman on his arm, he’d go back to it. She found herself thinking about him constantly, imagining herself as that woman, stepping out for a night on the town in a fabulous evening dress and a mink coat.
    It turned bitterly cold at Christmas, and then the snow came. The flat was freezing, the windows iced up even on the inside, it was an ordeal just to get undressed and have a bath, let alone try to wash clothes, dry them and find something in the shops to make into an evening meal. Reg didn’t seem to notice the cold, and it irritated him that she just couldn’t stand it. If she hadn’t had her job to go to at the pub, she thought perhaps she might have gone mad, for it was warm there, and a few drinks, a bit of flattery, took the edge off her despair.
    Tosh was so attentive, so caring. He often gave her a few chops or some mince to take home when she’d used up her meat ration, and he would shove a pound note into her hand and tell her to pop over to the hairdresser’s and get her hair done, but most of all it was his appreciation of her, rather than desire, that lured her into having a little kissing and cuddling with him.
    It was mid-February when she finally let him make love to her. Even that came about because the water pipes were frozen up at home, and he suggested she had a bath upstairs in his flat. It was heaven in his bathroom, a big radiator kept it warm, the water was piping hot, and the couple of large gins she had before getting into the bath transported her into a blissful state where she didn’t care about anything but the moment. She had been wallowing in there for almost an hour when Tosh walked in with a hot, fluffy towel for her in one hand, and another large drink in the other. He wrapped her up in the towel and carried her into his bedroom, and even if he wasn’t a great lover, the wickedness of it, the sensuality of the warmth and comfort, and the gin, made it quite delicious.
    Anne was very glad she wasn’t a Catholic like Reg, or she’d have been compelled to confess her adultery. But she got her punishment in other ways, because each afternoon after going to bed with Tosh, which was never so good after the first time, she had to go home again and face the girls and Reg. She knew she was failing them all by not having meals ready and letting the flat get so dirty and untidy, but instead of guilt making her try harder, it seemed to have the reverse effect. The more Reg complained, the less she did, and each night when she went to bed her dreams were all of a glamorous life, with her dressed in silk and satin, diamonds around her neck, and being with a man who wanted to show her off.
    She knew it was wicked, but sometimes she even had fantasies about Reg dying. It wasn’t that she actually wanted him dead, all she wanted was freedom, just as she had as a child. Maybe that was why she riled him so often by buying new clothes – she had never consciously thought about it, she just wanted to look stunning, but perhaps it was a way of making him get so exasperated with her that he’d leave her.
    ‘Come on then!’ Tosh said impatiently, repeating his suggestion they went upstairs for a drink.
    Anne forced a smile. ‘A break would be nice,’ she said, even though she had no heart for even speaking to him, let alone sex tonight. She knew it was a mistake to get involved with Tosh, but she needed to keep him sweet just in case Reg did take it into his head to slam the door on her.
    Tosh poured her a large gin and tonic upstairs in his sitting-room. There had been a time when Anne admired his flat with its ostentatious flock wallpaper, the cocktail bar, radiogram and sumptuous couches, but tonight it looked as vulgar as he was. He had barely poured her the drink before he unbuttoned his fly, pulled out his flaccid cock and suggested she