The Bed

I’m just lying there when she says:

‘I got this bed from that new charity shop. The last owner died in it, apparently.’

I was shocked by this; all sorts of images affronted my mind’s eye, including the old woman in her final agony, her body fluids leaking out all over the place.

‘Oh no,’ she declared. ‘I got the mattress separate.’

I still squirmed, and finally to reassure me she said:

‘I was winding you up. I bought the bed new.’

The next morning I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.

A large, dark, sinister stain on the mattress.