When Susan entered the bedroom, she found her husband lying flat on his back, cradling his lower belly, groaning.
‘Do you want me to get you a hot water bottle?’ She walked over to him and perched on the edge of the bed. ‘Or some painkillers?’
She kissed his forehead and walked towards the door.
‘And some tea.’
As she waited for the kettle to boil, she sighed. Poor George. Sometimes, she was really glad she wasn’t a man. Imagine having to go through that every month.