Blood Sinister

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  ‘Tea,’ she said.

  He took the mug and thanked her with a croak. She sat down on the edge of the bed with a serious look, and the functioning bit of his brain shouted Uh-o, trouble! Bad talk coming!

  ‘Bill,’ she said, ‘I’ve been thinking. About this job offer of mine. No, wait,’ she lifted a hand. ‘Don’t say anything. The fact of the matter is, I realise I haven’t really been fair on you. Whether I take the job or not is absolutely my decision, and it was unfair of me to expect you to take responsibility for it. You can’t make up your mind about the situation until I’ve made up mine, otherwise it’s like me asking you to decide for me. So I’ve thought and thought, and I’ve taken the plunge.’

  ‘Uh?’ was all he managed to get out from his matted brain via his matted mouth.

  She smiled a tense smile, as of one who has screwed herself up to the sticking point. ‘I’ve decided what I’m going to do,’ she said.