FIFTY-SEVEN
Terry twisted open the screw cap on the bottle of red wine, a Pinot Noir from Aldi that they both liked. He poured them both out a glass and they clinked them together in a toast to each other.
‘To us,’ he said, but Grace did not respond and barely sipped at her wine. She was dull-eyed, drawn, and haggard, her normally lustrous black hair lank and lacklustre. She was sullen and unsmiling, giving the impression that she would rather be anywhere else than where she was at that moment.
For a change, Terry and Grace were in his apartment, a two-bedroom apartment in a converted metalworks on the other side of Redemption Island from Grace’s town house. Normally they spent their time together at her house but if he was cooking, as he was that evening, he preferred to do it in his k
