Dirty Washing

David Williams swore as he jiggled his key in the awkward, unfamiliar lock, listening for the latch to fall into place. Once satisfied that it was secure he picked up a bulging black plastic sack from the porch floor and slung it over his shoulder. Overnight the small front garden of the terraced house had acquired some sort of roadway maintenance lantern that lay, upturned, but still flashing, on the scrubby piece of lawn, throwing its orange light intermittently onto the windows fronting the house. David wondered briefly whether it was this that had woken him. Probably not. He hadn't slept well for some time now. Fragments of conversations, usually heated ones, that had taken place between himself and Kathy sprung up in his mind as soon as his head touched the pillow.

After a few steps he set the sack down having forgotten about the gate. It was old and sagged on loose hinges. With effort he lifted the rotten weatherboard clear of the paving underneath, reversing the procedure on the other side. Although still early the traffic was already busy on the street before him. A small car edged alongside a large removals lorry in the narrow nearside........