8 September 2004


That's the thing about security. In the end you forget whether you meant to lock yourself in, or everybody else out. When Laurence is away I sometimes think there are prowlers on the security monitor. But when I check the tapes later, there's never anybody there. He's my security, I suppose. We'll both be fifty soon and I need him more than ever. He'll say: You menopausal old cow. I go checking all the locks on the ground floor. There's a shadow by the pool. It exhales cigarette smoke and points. I'm not alone here. My husband's upstairs. I'll scream.