The door clicked open. "You might have been wasted coming home this late. How does it feel to work your milk bone out?" Mrs Bridget said as she relaxed on the sofa her manicured leg crossed stylishly and she tuned the television set using the remote in her hand.

Trisha was with her also,

"Mum it's not even him, it's Pamela, his wife." She cleared, rolling her eyes.

"Good evening mother," She ignored her comment.

"It's so good you've found your husband a job. I don't have to sit watching him like Mona Lisa all through." She let out pacing herself into the sofa.

"Yes ma'am, I tried and he didn't hesitate, happy now?"

"That is a very dumb thing to do Pamela, it's an insult to the Masons now that he is working in a museum, can you remind me of his post? What he does there…"

"Not now, I'm tired and worn out from the office." She dropped her bag into the seat.

"Museum! You're so shamelessly supporting that minging pillock!"

"Dad knows about it and it's okay since he's getting himse