He left the house, mildly frustrated.
Two days, and already Ruth was on the slide. If she wasn’t going to take this seriously, then why should he bother?
He was crotchety and pissed off all morning, then he went back to the house to work from home for the afternoon.
Ruth was in the living room, watching Loose Women in her dressing gown.
Rob dropped his bag on the floor, strode over and switched off the telly.
‘Shit, you’re back early.’
Ruth put down the yogurt she’d been eating, in dismay.
‘You aren’t taking this seriously, Ruth,’ Rob said. ‘You aren’t taking me seriously.’
‘I am,’ she said. ‘Just feeling a bit off today, that’s all.’
‘Should I call the doctor?’
‘No, just a bit of a headache.’
‘Headache, yeah, right. I’ve heard it all before, Ruth. You had a permanent headache for an entire bloody term. Don’t lie to me. Why didn’t you go in this morning?’
She looked genuinely intimidated. He fought the impulse to soften, to be gentler, to offer her a weasel way out.
She wants help. She needs it. Don’t bottle out.
‘I just felt tired.’
‘Felt like festering in bed till midday. Am I right?’
Her shoulders dropped and she nodded.
‘It’s not good enough, is it?’
She shook her head.
‘Sorry. I’ve let you down.’
‘No, you’ve let yourself down. And I’ve let you down, too. I should’ve gone in there and made you get up.’
She looked up, and Rob thought he saw awe in her expression.
‘You should’ve,’ she breathed.
‘You made a good start, and you can do this, but you need more motivation. I need to take stronger measures.’
‘Do you?’ She crossed her legs. He saw her squeeze her thighs together. His mouth went dry.
‘Well, don’t you think so?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, what do you suggest?’
Ruth’s face tightened with alarm. He could see that she didn’t want to take responsibility for this, but that was tough luck, because she would be made to. She was going to be the author of her own discipline.
He folded his arms and glowered down at her.