My husband had been in a rut and made redundant after the company he worked for liquidated. He was desperate for work and whilst dining at a bakery was approached by one of the staff and offered him a job.

When he told me, I was delighted that he was delighted. He was on the brink of giving up hope but this bakery gave him that glimmer back.

When he told me that his colleagues met every Sunday to talk about life and purpose. I thought it would be good for him. To talk to others and get different perspectives of life. It sacrificed our Sunday walk in the park but we all have to make compromises here and there.

Several weeks pass and I can see him move with purpose and meaning and I appreciated that. I let him know one day and he stopped what he was doing. I thought I broke him like a malfunctioning toy. Then he turned his head to face me. What if I joined him? I laughed at his joke but his face didn’t relay to him the funny peculiarities of his question as it was stone-cold seriousness. I said I would think about it, only to escape the scrutinising stare he gave me for the ever-ticking delay in my response.

One day after work, he returned with a leaflet and a bag containing an assortment of bread. He put them on the table and said they were for me. Gifts from Forever Bread. That was the bakery’s name. It always struck me strange why they would name themselves that. Bread doesn’t last forever. I grabbed a baguette out of the bad and began to rip it apart. He scolded me. He said I should appreciate the bread life gives us and to treat the bread with respect. To treat it with the wisdom it has gained and to cherish it when eaten. I just gawped. I decided at that moment, the bread was not for me. I picked up the leaflet and read it expecting some kind of advertisement for the bakery but instead it was giving me the creeps. He was watching me read it and that disturbed me. I excused myself saying I needed to go to the loo, taking the leaflet with me.

I locked the bathroom door behind me and sat on the toilet lid. I examined the leaflet more.

“The Forever Bread believe in truly nourishing the body. The lord gave his disciples bread and wine that represented the body and blood of his holiness. We believe in that symbolism and whilst bread is what we sell, bread is what we are willing to give back to our family. When our time comes to give our bread, the family will eat our bread and pass on the wisdom of those who came before us…”

The leaflet continues on but I could not. This felt so wrong, something in the words was digging its claws into my nerves and I couldn’t shake the thoughts off. This has got to be a cult, surely.

Knock knock. He’s asking if I’m alright as he can’t hear water or anything. I flush the toilet and unlock the door.

I turn the handle and take a deep breath.