CHAPTER SIX
Nikolas stared into the glowing bar of the radiator. The evenings were becoming cooler already and he was aware of a small, niggling ache in one knee. He leaned back into the armchair, one hand clasping and unclasping the worn leather arms in time with his thoughts.
From the bedroom, he could hear the murmurings of the television. Delfi, he knew, would have drifted into sleep by the middle episode of her favourite series. It seemed that, night after night, as he prepared for bed, he saw Katerina Matsouka re-enacting the same scene. His wife would be sleeping, propped up against the pillows. In repose she looked even younger than her twenty-one years, her thick, black hair streaming over the pillows as though she had jumped into bed with the enthusiasm of a child.
Now, fixed
