They were in a concrete hallway. No carpet on the floor, no pictures on the wall: just cold stone. ‘What is this place?’ Miranda asked. ‘Home,�... Grey replied as he began making his way down the corridor, bracing his hand against the wall, ‘or what passes for it for the last few years.’ Miranda looked aghast, ‘Years? You’ve spent years here?’ ‘Many.’ The corridor opened up into a large, square shaped room, four walls, cookie-cutter perfect and cast in cement. ‘Huh,’ Miranda commented, refused to. I'd done my best to ignore all the signs (including the frequent sales trips and conferences my wife seemed to need to be going on) until one day my daughter, Samantha, cornered me for a serious talk."Dad ... Mum's messing around on you."I just looked at her grimly. She held up a DVD. I waved resignedly at the player and she put it on to play. I recognised the male lead in the porn drama; Ben Phillips, a work colleague of Janine's. The woman was certainly Janine, but I didn't recognise the. More

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