Loose Connections Read Online Free Page A

noticed the name tag on his overall pocket for the first time, the letters punched into the plastic. Aaron, it said. ‘You’re in my house now, Aaron,’ Rosemary said. ‘I’ll talk about whatever I like.’ 
    The repairman sat up, about to say something. His full lips formed around a new word, but then he closed his mouth and slumped back into the chair. 
    â€˜There’s no such thing as equality, Aaron,’ Rosemary said. ‘So what if women become plumbers? So what if you have to call a manhole cover a person-hole cover? That doesn’t mean jack shit. Women still aren’t paid the same wage.’ She pushed a bulky French-language dictionary out of her way and sat back against the wall, pulling her legs up on to the edge of the desk. ‘I’ve got a theory,’ she said. ‘I think the suffragettes got it wrong. I think the bra-burners did more harm than good. We should never have started work. Now we have to work, because you need more than one wage to run a household. People look down on you if you don’t work. If you live on your husband’s income, people call you a 
    gold-digger, a scrounger. Or they think that you’re a bimbo, too brainless to carve 
    out your own career. So fine! We go to work. We work the same hours as our husbands. 
    We put up with all of the same workplace pressures. Somewhere along the line 
    we give up a promotion or two in favour of taking maternity leave to bear a couple 
    of kids. Men can’t have babies yet, can 
    they? Doesn’t stop them wanting them, though.’ 
    â€˜I don’t want kids,’ Aaron said. 
    Rosemary ignored him. ‘So now we’re working. Now we’ve got spending power, choices. We can buy a pair of shoes without asking our husband’s permission. So we’re equal, right? Wrong! Who does the cooking and the cleaning? Women. They spend all day in the office and then they come home and cook the food. Not any sort of food. Oh no! It’s got to be home-made, hand-cooked from scratch. Every time they turn the TV on, there’s Nigella bloody Lawson stirring coconut milk into a beef and aubergine curry. Cooking is sexy. Baking is cool. Feeding your family on fresh, organic ingredients is the least you should do. Don’t even think about taking the kids to McDonald’s or dropping a handful of frozen chips into the deep fat fryer. You do that and Jamie Oliver will be on the doorstep with the food police, quicker than you can say Turkey flippin’ twizzler!’ 
    Rosemary wrung her hands. ‘Look at you,’ she said. ‘You can fix a computer, you can hold a screwdriver. What’s so difficult about the “on” button on a washing machine? I know exactly how many steps it takes to get from the washing machine to the washing line. Ten. I know it by heart. My husband doesn’t even know where the pegs are kept.’ 
    â€˜A woman’s work is never done,’ the repairman said. 
    Rosemary huffed. ‘You’re telling me,’ she said. 
    â€˜Listen.’ The repairman sat up in the chair, his free arm balanced on the leather arm. He was trying to look confident, but he just looked absurd. The black ostrich feathers had caused some sort of reaction. There was a pink patch on the skin on the back of his hand. ‘You’re clearly stressed. Don’t take this the wrong way, but your doctor could help you out with that, give you something to relax. Or you could go on holiday. When was the last time you went on holiday?’ 
    â€˜How can I afford a holiday?’ Rosemary said. ‘I can’t afford a weekend in a tent until I get my assignment e-mailed. And I can’t do that without a working Internet connection, can I?’ She looked up at him. ‘When was the last time you went on holiday?’ 
    â€˜The summer,’ he said. ‘Prague.’
    â€˜Nice,’