19
By the time Ralph got home it was late and he was exhausted. He only just managed to get his key into the lock, his hand shook so much. As he struggled, the door opened with a jerk and his wife stood there.
She measured him from head to foot.
“What in the name of God happened to you?”
He stumbled inside, nudging past her. The carrier bag groaned heavy in his fist and he went straight into the large utility room at the rear of the house. He sensed her close behind and he craned his neck to stare at her. “What?”
“You look as though you’ve been in a fight, Ralph. All that blood!”
It was true. His coat and trousers were soaked in the stuff. He’d torn off the apron and thrown it into the corner of the cottage. It had protected his chest, but he could do nothing about his other clothes.
