Had he thought about it, Tony might have wondered why Marcia, frosty and distant at the best of times, was fussing over him. She squeezed past him in the bathroom closer than necessary, or usual, and went to get him a clean, dry bath towel.
“I’ll close the bedroom curtains for you so you can take a nap later. Is there anything I can get you? A cuppa maybe? Hot water bottle? Aspirins, paracetamol?” she offered. ’Arsenic?’ she thought.
She quickly tidied up the mess in the spare bedroom. ‘Phew! That was close!’ she thought... ‘where the hell is Franco?’