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Chris and June Chapter 1 Author's note: Well, it's more of the same. People who like this sort of thing should find that this is the sort of thing they like, as I think Groucho Marx said. ‘Oh Chris,’ said June, gently shaking her husband awake. Chris woke and looked at his wife. He knew from her tone of voice what had happened before he became aware of the clammy sheet beneath his hips. ‘I’m sorry, honey,’ he said, clambering out of the big bed. ‘At least we’ve got the plastic undersheet,’ June said, tugging at the bedding as Chris stood by the side of the bed in his soaked pyjamas. ‘I’ll put everything in the wash,’ said Chris, trying to be helpful. His enuresis had developed slowly over the last few weeks. Other than that issue, Chris was physically healthy enough, and the doctor’s opinion was that there was a psychological background to it. Some months previously, the company Chris worked for and had helped build from a startup became embroiled, through no fault of Chris’s, in a series of complex legal actions which had very serious financial implications for him. In short, the company had failed under the weight of the law suits. Chris and June had said goodbye to the use of various company-owned assets such as a holiday house and car. Worse, a network of long forgotten directors’ guarantees had meant that Chris had been stripped not only of his once considerable wealth, but his business prospects as well. ‘Oh, you were with them,’ he heard more than once. Chris had had a few consulting jobs since the Big Disaster, but not enough to keep things afloat. He’d become bitter and depressed, and more or less stopped working. The couple now relied on June’s inherited capital and solid job, as an insolvency lawyer, ironically, to maintain their house and somewhat less lavish lifestyle. Chris now spent his time around the house, doing the things he’d never had the time to do while he was working long hours for the company. He gradually pulled out of his angry depression and began to take a genuine interest in the things he found to do at home. The dynamic between he and June began gradually to change too. June found that as the breadwinner, she began to enjoy the responsibility of supporting Chris and helping him through the dark times while his life’s work crashed around him. Chris carried his armful of wet bedding into the laundry. He looked at the plastic basket of their laundry which represented one of his chores for the day. He loaded the bedding into the machine, added washing powder to the receptacle and turned the dial to full wash then turned on the machine. The other basket could wait. Chris looked again at its contents. There was his terry tracksuit top and bottom - the comfortable clothing he now wore most days, a couple of pairs of his underpants and some of June’s business blouses, some panties and bras, and a pair of June’s jeans along with her gym gear. June's smart work skirts and jackets were dry cleaned rather than washed. Chris swallowed. His wife’s clothing seemed sophisticated compared with his simple tracksuits. Even her underwear looked more, well, adult, Chris thought. When he was first at home, Chris would dress in casual clothes. Then he'd only dress up if he went out with June - in her car of course. They hadn't replaced Chris’s company vehicle, and when his last licence renewal came around, June had said they could save the money since he didn't really need to drive at present. Chris had objected, but it was June’s money after all, so he'd given in without much pressure. Anyway, he didn't bother to change out of his tracksuit now if they went somewhere. There didn't seem much point, June had said. With the laundry underway, Chris went to the kitchen. He usually helped June with the breakfast, and did the washing up after she'd left for work. Chris found June in the kitchen, wearing a tight pair of jeans and a t shirt. He sat in his usual place at the breakfast table off the kitchen, where June had laid out a bowl of cornflakes for him. ‘Is it casual Friday at work or something?’ he asked, admiring as he always did June’s firm, well built body in the close fitting clothes. ‘No,’ said June. ‘And it’s Wednesday, Mr Muddlehead. My last case has finished and I thought I'd take a day off. Spend it with my baby,’ she said with a smile, putting a glass of orange juice in front of Chris and kissing him on the top of his head. ‘Didn't I mention it?’ ‘No,’ replied Chris, putting a spoon into his cornflakes and milk. ‘What was the last case about?’ ‘Oh, just boring stuff,’ said June. ‘Complicated but boring. I've got to do a bit of shopping today. I'm meeting up with Josie and I thought we could all have lunch in the park. We’ll leave soon after breakfast, once you've had a shower.’ There goes my morning on the computer, thought Chris. And lunch with Josie. She was a clone of June - a successful businesswoman, fit from regular workouts at the gym, and about three inches taller than he was, Chris thought with some irritation. Josie didn't just literally look down on Chris - she seemed to regard him as June’s unsuccessful husband and barely paid attention to him when she was around him. ‘Cheer up, grumpy,’ said June, looking at Chris’s gloomy face. ‘You like the park. And I expect you to be nice to Josie.’ ‘I am cheered up,’ said Chris defensively. ‘It's just…’ it was just that Chris felt that Josie treated him like an idiot. Last time she'd dropped in, Chris had tried to join in a discussion about finance and she'd brushed him off, telling him it was 'money stuff' and asking him about the computer game he'd been playing when she arrived. ‘Honey, Josie is a busy woman, like me. We often work together so we tend to talk about work. She doesn't think that really interests you, but she does like you, Chris. She thinks you're sweet. Now finish up and hop into the shower. We've got a lot to do.’ You mean you've got a lot to do, thought Chris. ‘Can I have a cup of coffee first?’ asked Chris, eyeing June's steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee. ‘I don't think so, Chris,’ said June. ‘I think you'd better give coffee a break for a while. It might help with your bedwetting.’ ‘It's not bedwetting,’ objected Chris. ‘Just twice, well three times in months. That's not bedwetting.’ ‘Sweetie, it's four times not three, and in six weeks, not ‘months’. Twice in the last fortnight. If that's not ‘bedwetting’ it's awfully close. That's why we've got the plastic undersheet now. Doctor’s orders. Remember what Sally said?’ ‘She sees everything as a medical problem with a medical solution,’ replied Chris. ‘All I need to do is relax a bit, and I'm doing that.’ ‘And your bedwetting’s getting worse,’ said June, putting her hand gently on Chris’s arm. ‘It's not ‘my bedwetting’, June,’ said Chris forcefully, blinking and looking away from June as he felt unbidden tears rising. ‘Oh, honey, everyone's on your side,’ said June as Chris stood up. ‘Tell you what, we'll pick up a deep pan pizza from Joe’s for lunch, or I can make chicken and mayo sandwiches,’ she added. ‘Which do you want?’ ‘Whatever,’ said Chris as he stumped off to the bathroom. June sighed. Josie was right, she thought. He was like a surly teenager sometimes. To be continued.