Leaving Bill. Gaynor Hill

Truda hesitated, how much time should she leave? An hour? Two hours? Three hours? Three hours. Yes, just to be on the safe side. She stepped out onto the doorstep pulling the front door closed behind her.     The black and white chequered tiles of the garden path glistened, slick under her feet with the wet day. Truda paused when she got to the gate and looked back at her little terraced house. She'd had such hopes when they'd moved there thirty years ago. The dark green door with its brass knocker had made…