Chapter 4
I was at home alone on Tuesday evening while Mark attended his night class in catering management. I hated Tuesday evenings. They reminded me all too clearly of the many nights I’d had to spend alone in the pre-Mark days.
Determined not to mope, I got out the photo albums.
I smiled as I turned the pages and my memories were triggered. I wasn’t much of a photographer, but my library training demanded I keep an up-to-date pictorial record of my and Mark’s lives together.
Mark’s 21st birthday—he’d said he didn’t want a fuss making of it. Well, tough luck, I’d made sure it was properly celebrated. Helen had insisted on doing the cooking. There hadn’t been that many people present: Paul and Helen, of course, Sam and Billy, my parents who were over for the weekend. We’d held the
