Review Kate Morris Seven Year Itch

‘You don’t have to leave the water running like that,’ I shouted, ‘it’s not very ecological.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing.’ He turned the taps off. ‘Sorry if you thought I was blaming you. I’m just feeling fearful.’

‘Really...what does that mean exactly? I mean what are you fearful of?’

‘Just everything. Maybe I’m worried about you dying.’

‘Me dying? I thought it was Jed who died in your dream.’

‘Yes, well, dying in general and also flying. I’m fearful of flying.’

‘We need to cheer you up. I think we should have dinner together at that little place on the river. An early anniversary celebration.’ Jack returned to his shaving while I sat on the loo and flicked through a generic toy catalogue.

Little place by the river. Did he mean the River Café? The Italian restaurant that we used to go to so casually for a sea bass carpaccio on a Sunday, or an impromptu guinea fowl when the mood took us, before Jack lost the part of Dr Granger in Country Matters. Jack carried on spending as if he were still earning £3,000 a week and it was my job to curb the spending. Jack was not modest about anything. He always ordered wine by the glass, psyching himself into the idea that he was drinking less that way, and he usually chose the most expensive item on the menu - the lobster with caviar or the pasta with truffle.

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