The first time she calls the police herself from the phone box across the road. She screams like a preacher. ‘When are you going to do something? He’s locked me out again the bastard.’ There are not enough faces at windows so she yells, ‘I’m standing here in just my knickers.’ The police know her name. She uses expletives like I use the space bar. ‘It took you long enough to get here.’ Her husband unlocks the door and gives her a can of cider. The police depart for the thirty minute interval. My neighbour calls them back to the stage. He doesn’t need to give the full address. By the time the police arrive the son has thrown a brick through the front window. An ambulance is called and the paramedics carry out the wife, her face looks like a butcher shop window. She climbs from the stretcher and punches indiscriminately. The ambulance departs. The police van beeps.
It is almost morning when the taxi brings her back. She climbs in through the remains of the window and takes the rock that broke it to her husband. He is unconscious as they take him away. As the sun rises I wonder what they are going to do tomorrow.