Aisling Gayle
“She looked at the bedside clock. Quarter past seven. Quarter past seven on a Monday morning after a weekend away celebrating seven years of marriage. Neither of them needed to be up for another half an hour, and yet he was gone from their bed. He was downstairs and on the phone already.Last week, they had sat with some of Oliver’s drama group at a wedding, and a new member had made a funny comment about them approaching the ‘seven-year itch’. Only no one had laughed. There had been a very awkwa...rd silence. The rest of the group knew – as Aisling knew – that Oliver had always had the itch. He had the itch even before they got married. Aisling threw the bedclothes back and padded across the cold linoleum floor, her long blonde hair swinging like two curtains on either side of her face. She opened the door just a few inches. Just enough to hear who he was talking to. Just enough to be sure.“Of course,” she could hear Oliver say in a low voice. “You know I do. Why else would I be on the phone to you, at this hour of the morning?”Aisling leaned her head against the jamb of the door and closed her eyes.MoreLess
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