Chapter Eighteen
Chinese Takeaway
There are reasons couples fight that even they are unaware of.
Mavis spent another night on the couch, and this time Lumpy didn’t call.
The night before, they had arrived at the Taj Mahal holding hands. They were on their way to picking up Chinese and had popped in to see if I would like to join them after I finished work.
Thanks to a four-figure order of a rugby club portion, I had just finished a delivery. I had been out in the rain risking the first decent haircut I had had in months in a street where the houses were numbered as randomly as a set of lottery balls. I searched for a whole hour for a house which had no number and no lights to show that there was no number. I had knocked on five doors, been sniffed, pawed, and then barked at by a dribb
