They were home when she remembered about the bread and milk.
"I can't go out again, I'm soaked through," she mumbled.
She put the TV on for the girls. Back in the kitchen she took a plate out of the sink and rubbed it dry on her forearm, the digestives she put on it soaking up the excess moisture. She fancied a change, so gulped some gin out of the cup she'd just poured and then added some orange juice. Her blouse clung cold to her back. The kettle clicked off. She couldn't be bothered to pour herself a tea.