It’s been long enough, the wife thought. The clock on her smartphone informed her exactly 30 minutes had passed since she promised to return with the salad. Since then, she had tidied up the kitchen, fed the poodle, and called her mother.

“OK, back I go,” she said, removing the salad from the refrigerator.

At a brisk pace, she crossed the wide hallway and turned left towards the stairs. Busy preparing herself for the difficult discussion she planned on having with Allan, she almost knocked over his brother, who was coming down the stairs quickly.

“Oh dear, you startled me!” She scolded him, feigning anger.

“Please. Nothing startles you.”

They shared a smile, before she noticed he was carrying his luggage.

“Oh?” She questioned him.

“Yeah. I can’t stand this house.”

“But I thought you’d have a nice little holiday here.”

“That’s what I thought too, but apparently the house is too small to contain four people.” He emphasised the word “four”, giving her a look full of meaning.

“I see. I was meaning to talk to Allan about his daughter. In fact, I’m on my way to do that now. Have you seen Francis? I don’t want to disturb them again.”

“Francis? He’s been loitering in the garden, I believe.”

She frowned. “I didn’t see him leave, but could you tell him to come into the kitchen, like a civilised person? We’ll have some tea.”

“If he’s still there, I will. Now, I best be going.”

“I’m really sorry you have to go. Make sure to come for supper at least.”

He waved from the hallway before disappearing through the heavy doors of the sitting room.

Saddened by the news of his leaving, the wife continued her way up the stairs, even more decided to have the talk with Allan.

She knocked softly before pushing the door open.

“I’ve brought your salad, dear. Eat it and then we need to talk.” Her tone was harsh, she had been steeling herself for this occasion. She won’t back down now, no matter how hard it was going to be.

“Salad? Yes…”

Her husband was slumped over his work table, his face very close to his scattered sketches.

“Please, take a break, dear. I made your favourite.” She was starting to feel bad for him.

She stepped closer and placed the bowl to his left. “Here, see?”

He glanced at the salad then up at her. His eyes were unfocused, almost troubled, and sweat was trickling down his temples.

“You’ve done it again then? Worked yourself to death, two days without sleep.”

She pulled a chair to the table and helped him sit down. “Eat.”

He took the fork from her and regarded it with great confusion. He seemed uninterested in the food.

“Fine,” his wife said. “You don't want to eat, then we’ll talk instead.”

He muttered something that sounded like “I can’t talk.”

She started to demand he listen, at least, when she noticed the whisky bottle.

“Allan! You don’t drink, you’ve never drank this much. No wonder you’re looking so bad. What happened?”

He just shook his head in response.

“You need to eat, and then I’ll take you to bed.”

“No, Hannah…”

“Oh for goodness sake! Leave that daughter of yours alone for a moment. Take care of yourself for once, and then we’ll talk.” He tried to speak again, but she was too upset to allow it. “Look at yourself! What has become of you? Drinking? Not eating? Obsessing over this creature?”

At that moment, Allan pushed himself up and came towards his wife. He brought his hand down on her shoulder, as she ducked for fear he might strike her face.

“Allan!” She screamed and pushed her husband away. Terrified of him raising his hand again, his other hand still clasping her silk blouse, she pushed him harder and managed to escape from his grip. She ran out of his studio, never looking back when she heard a loud thump behind her. She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, to alert someone.

The kitchen was empty, no sign of her brother in law or Francis. She was alone. Scared for her safety, she ran towards the front door, grabbing a coat on her way out.