Ann chatted with her neighbour across the backyard fence while Andrew mowed the lawn. Riccai was a southern belle from Kentucky, settled into her fourth marriage, and Ann’s closest friend. They talked light-heartedly of their frustrations with the local government’s poor planning and unscrupulous subdividing of arable land, and complained about the dogs that barked incessantly every time the children down the street walked by. They shared snippets of workplace melodrama—Riccai was a senior lecturer in business management. By now Andrew was raking the clippings and tossing them on the flowerbeds. Back and forth he strode, huffing and muttering to himself. They both ignored him.
That night was cold and Andrew had a sore throat. ‘From working like a slave,’ he said under his breath as he pas
