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She went to the fridge and pulled out cling-wrapped pork, two thick courgettes, a paper bag of mushrooms and a large tub of cream. She pressed her finger into the cold surface of the meat and watched it swallow her mark, the cling film stretching itself flat again. Five silver-handled knives hung at eye-level from a black magnetic strip. Janine took the largest and began to slice the mushrooms, the knife tapping a quick rhythm onto the board. She put a piece into her mouth and felt it break against her teeth. David always wanted everything to be simple; thought problems could be placed in boxes and neatly disposed of. She sliced the last mushroom until the knife met her skin. She hadn’t picked up a pencil, or a piece of charcoal, or a paintbrush for eighteen months and four days, so there was no point even discussing it.

She knew she had closed the fridge. Janine took a courgette and cut off each end. She couldn't remember the sound of the door closing, of the seal sucking itself shut. She chopped the courgette into twelve thick circles. It wouldn't hurt to check. The door was closed. She opened and shut it to make sure, then stood with her back against the fridge and stared at her showroom kitchen. The marble-topped surfaces were lined with gadgets: blender, chopper, mixer, frother. Expensive saucepans hung from evenly spaced hooks. Halogen lights were embedded in the ceiling, angled to give optimum visibility without making the place look like a canteen. The hum of the fridge-freezer filled the air. She imagined taking the largest saucepan and smashing the whole thing to pieces. Instead, she returned to the food, pulled the meat free of its transparent wrap and slapped it onto the board; sliced it into neat, thin strips.

She stirred the sauce; waited until the first fat bubble heaved itself to the surface before shouting to David. He strolled through with the magazine held between finger and thumb as though it was nothing important. Janine piled fresh pasta into two shallow bowls, poured the sauce carefully on top and carried them to the table.

'I brought this – ' He held the magazine out to her.

'I saw.'

'Did you read the article?' He fumbled through the pages.

'I’m not ready, David.'

'But yesterday you said you were fed up, you couldn't go on like this. I thought …'