Gavin didn’t rush home after work. He’d hang with his co workers, staying with them until they left. Then he’d check the time. He didn’t want to arrive at his flat before seven.
If Gavin left his work place at quitting time and reached his area before six, he’d avoid going to his flat, entering a supermarket or walking to avoid arriving before seven.
It was hunger which had him going ‘home’, nothing more.
Marie was a very good and creative cook. No sense using his pay to buy a junk meal when there was a delicious one on his table.
If there wasn’t, if Marie had an ‘episode’, one of her childish sulks where she didn’t prepare him a meal, Gavin would cook for himself. He didn’t speak to or at Marie. He ignored her existence as best he could.
If she thought he’d ask why she hadn’t cooked and she would have the opportunity to ‘perform’, she would be stupider than she looked.
If there was no dinner on the table, as if nothing happened, Gavin would prepare his meal, wash up after himself, ignore the existence of Marie..
She didn’t pull that ‘no cook’ trick because not preparing Gavin’s dinner didn’t work any more than not preparing his breakfast.
Some place in the cobwebs of her brain, Marie was cognisant that if she no longer had use she’d be on the street.
It was that which kept her from explosions.