Barnard was prone to infidelity. His wife, Thora, knew this, and was accommodating. At least she knew if she didn’t make a fuss someone would continue to support her. Their love had died years ago. There was no rancour. No angst. No harsh feelings. They lived in the same house. Slept in the same bed. To all observers, they were an average, hum-drum couple.
Barnard would go to the pub with a couple of bachelor mates, and they would boast to each other of their sexual conquests. Barnard even kept a notebook of names.
One day, Thora met a man. She was head over heels. She had never been so happy. Barnard found out.
Boy, did he go ape-shit. Thora said to Barnard, I’m leaving you. He bashed her up.
Thora left. It was the bravest thing she had ever done.