8 a.m. Another flight. He will have to cross a zillion time zones, his body will ache in places he didn’t even remember existed, he will have to ove...come jetlag... Flying Washington to Singapore took more than twenty-four hours. Two stops, one in the USA and another somewhere in the Far East, depending on the lowest fare found by Greta, our middle-aged secretary, always in the quest of getting five quarters from a dollar. He avoided the queue. At the very last minute got on board, politely. I tried several times to talk to her, but she simply ignored me or walked out of the room.Eventually, I decided that I must have overreacted. When I got home on Monday night, I apologized. I thought I saw a small gleam of triumph in her eye, but it was gone so fast that I couldn’t be sure.She threw her arms around me.“Simon, you know I love you, but you’re my husband, not my jailer. I was dancing with some guy, so what. If he had gone further than I wanted I would have dealt with it. Don’t you. More

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