A Fortunate Man. John Berger

      ‘I’ll say that for Jack,’ she continued, ‘he never makes no distinction between the kids that are his and those that are mine like. We share fifty-fifty. He’s better to Steve than his own father. It’s just that he can’t touch me.’

      She looked at the photograph, holding it out at arm’s length.

      The doctor asked whether she and her husband wanted to stay in the area and what would they think if he tried to get them a Council house. She answered without glancing away from the photo.

      ‘You have to ask Jack about that. We do everything fifty-fifty.’

      Still holding the photograph she let her arm fall on to her lap and looked at the doctor, her eyes now angry.

      ‘Can you tell me if I’m too old? Jack says I’m too old. I only want it every two or three months.’

      ‘That’s all to do with your being tired and feeling you can’t cope.’

      ‘I’ve had a bellyful all right. Sometimes I think I just can’t go on. I just want to lie down and stop.’