If only it hadn't happened - the telephone ringing - three times.
Oh, the futility of it all. But isn't it all futility in the dead of night?
They'd argued - over everything, but mainly his belief she had a lover. I'd known he was in one of those moods and I'd intervened, going to their flat.
I found him in the lounge sulking - she was in the bedroom - I could hear the sobs. Well, I'd calmed him, and it would have been fine ...
until the phone call.
He picked it up. Listened. A voice said: 'Hi, hon, I'll come round tomorrow at ten if that's ok.'
I saw the shock on his face. I grabbed the phone - asked who the hell it was. But by then his anger had boiled again.
By the time I got into the bedroom, it was all over, her eyes staring blankly into nowhere.
Oh, the futility - especially as it was a wrong number.