Three months. Nineteen hundred pounds. Out of an account he and I have had since 2016, which he had told me about in advance in exactly no detail, which is the only thing I have ever been properly cross with him about.
And my sister stood in my kitchen in a towel and shouted at him that he could not do that.
Which is the part I have thought about most.
She was not angry about being pushed out. He had not pushed her out; the note says so, and he meant it, and she read it.
She was angry because he had taken it off the table.
For three weeks the arrangement had been that she was there on her terms and could not be moved without somebody being the bad one.
He paid nineteen hundred pounds to remove that, in about ninety seconds, in a kitchen, without raising his voice once.
