Modality-II-Instrumental-I.

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INGLÉS INSTRUMENTAL I (NIVEL B2)

1º Grado en Estudios Ingleses

Facultad de Filosofía y Letras

Universidad de Granada

Reservados todos los derechos.

No se permite la explotación económica ni la transformación de esta obra. Queda permitida la impresión en su totalidad.
 Inst I – MODALITY SYSTEMS Dr Rocío Montoro

MODALITY II

1. Exercises
a) Extract 1

It’s ridiculous, when I think about it. How did I find myself here? I
wonder where it started, my decline; I wonder at what point I could have
halted it. Where did I take the wrong turn? Not when I met Tom, who saved me
from grief after Dad died. Not when we married, carefree, drenched in bliss, on
an oddly wintry May day seven years ago. I was happy, solvent, successful. Not
when we moved into number twenty-three, a roomier, lovelier house than I’d
imagined I’d live in at the tender age of twenty-six. I remember those first days
so clearly, walking around, shoeless, feeling the warmth of wooden floorboards
underfoot, relishing the space, the emptiness of all those rooms waiting to be
filled. Tom and I, making plans: what we’d plant in the garden, what we’d hang
on the walls, what colour to paint the spare room—already, even then, in my
head, the baby’s room.

Maybe it was then. Maybe that was the moment when things started to
go wrong, the moment when I imagined us no longer a couple, but a family;
and after that, once I had that picture in my head, just the two of us could never
be enough. Was it then that Tom started to look at me differently, his
disappointment mirroring my own? After all he gave up for me, for the two of
us to be together, I let him think that he wasn’t enough. (p. 77)

b) Extract 2

I fell asleep in the afternoon. I woke feverish, panicky. Guilty. I do feel guilty.
Just not guilty enough.

I thought about him leaving in the middle of the night, telling me, once
again, that this was the last time, the very last time, we can’t do this again. He
was getting dressed, pulling on his jeans. I was lying on the bed and I laughed,
because that’s what he said last time, and the time before, and the time before
that. He shot me a look. I don’t know how to describe it, it wasn’t anger,
exactly, not contempt —it was a warning.

I feel uneasy. I walk around the house; I can’t settle, I feel as though
someone else has been here while I was sleeping. There’s nothing out of place,
but the house feels different, as though things have been touched, subtly shifted
out of place, and as I walk around I feel as though there’s someone else here,
always just out of my line of sight. I check the French doors to the garden three
times, but they’re locked. I can’t wait for Scott to get home. I need him. (pp. 89-
90)

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Reservados todos los derechos. No se permite la explotación económica ni la transformación de esta obra. Queda permitida la impresión en su totalidad.
 Inst I – MODALITY SYSTEMS Dr Rocío Montoro

c) Extract 3

Megan is still missing; she’s been gone more than sixty hours now, and
the story is becoming national news. It was on the BBC website and Daily Mail
this morning; there were a few snippets mentioning it on other sites, too.
I printed out both the BBC and Daily Mail stories; I have them with me.

Reservados todos los derechos. No se permite la explotación económica ni la transformación de esta obra. Queda permitida la impresión en su totalidad.
From them I have gleaned the following:
Megan and Scott argued on Saturday evening. A neighbour reported
hearing raised voices. Scott admitted that they’d argued and said that he
believed his wife had gone to spend the night with a friend, Tara Epstein, who
lives in Corly.
Megan never got to Tara’s house. Tara says the last time she saw Megan
was on Friday afternoon at their Pilates class. (I knew Megan would do Pilates.)
According to Ms. Epstein, “She seemed fine, normal. She was in a good mood,
she was talking about doing something special for her thirtieth birthday next
month.”
Megan was seen by one witness walking towards Witney train station at
around seven fifteen on Saturday evening.
Megan has no family in the area. Both her parents are deceased.
Megan is unemployed. She used to run a small art gallery in Witney, but
it closed down in April last year. (I knew Megan would be arty.)
Scott is a self-employed IT consultant. (I can’t bloody believe Scott is an
IT consultant.)
Megan and Scott have been married for three years; they have been
living in the house on Blenheim Road since January 2012.
According to the Daily Mail, their house is worth four hundred thousand
pounds. (pp. 91-92)

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