‘Nine o’clock’ he said, ‘pick you up at nine’.
Time now ? Nine fifteen, typical, late again in a world of his own, why did I marry him ?
I’ve told him off every time, fat difference that makes, still late.
Nine forty five. Is he angry with me, got a grudge, punishing me? Won’t talk about his feelings so I have to guess.
It’s eleven –he’s been in a car crash ? – oh please no, no, no, too awful.
Hear that – it’s the honk of the car horn.
Thank God, he’s here now.