'I gather you're my wife,' said the man in the waiting room. 'I don't think I've had the pleasure. Might one know your name?'

Middle-aged and scrawny he was bare-legged and underneath his shortie dressing-gown Mrs Donaldson thought he might be bare altogether.

'Donaldson.'

'Right. Mine's Terry. I've been away.'

He put out his hand and as she shook it briefly the dressing-gown fell open to reveal a pair of tangerine Y-fronts with, tucked into the waistband, a mobile phone.

LRB 9 September 2010 | PDF Download