would not explain why Dr Newell was not available for interview. The government was investigating and it would be improper to make any further comment until that investigation was complete. That was the official line and there it stayed. The government was bound to be given a rough ride in Parliament the following day, but Patrick’s performance suggested that it intended to tough it out.
It had not been Patrick’s finest hour. I had to admit it. I knew Dr Newell to be a man of integrity who had spoken out because his conscience had prompted him to do so. He had done the right thing. And Patrick? I was disappointed in him. As for me, I had come very close to the line. This new twist – the government’s denial and sullying of Dr Newell’s name – made me uncomfortable about being part of it all. In less than one week my life had been turned around, my conscience put on the line. Had I been blind or half asleep to be socareless of the dangers of the world I inhabited? Anna, who shared my desire to write words that would change lives, and the mysterious Julian, were making me question myself. And so, tired as I was and weary of the day, I had to return to one of the few things in my life that still made sense – Anna’s journal.
30 September
I have two lives: my outer life with Mark and all the excitement of a passionate love affair. Then there is my inner life, with Julian, the intimate companion of my quiet hours. Sometimes I wonder why the repose in my heart comes when I am alone with Julian and her book and not when I am with my beloved. It is my failing, of course, my inability to believe and accept that the great gift of his love is mine. It is I who create the invisible veil between us – or perhaps there is always such a veil between lovers. For who can dare to be as close as breathing? It is terrifying. The coming together of flesh and surrender of one-ness is peril and adventure enough. I long for and yet shrink from the intimacy that puts me soul to soul with my lover, such nakedness, such vulnerability. Is it always like this, for everybody?
Mark could not do more to allay my fears. He is a most attentive lover, telephoning at least once a day, even while busy and far away. I am baffled by his perception of me as dazzling and glamorous. I have always known myself to be a quiet little mouse. “It’s always exciting seeing you,” he told me yesterday. “I’m always discovering something new about you to love.”
Imperceptibly, it is Mark who is taking over my life, leaving Julian at the outer limits. My busy rehearsal schedule has to be amended continually, so that we can meet. Mark’s working life is so unpredictable, with unexpected business meetings causing him to change our plans with little warning. He is always travelling and hardly ever at his flat. Our trip to Cornwall sealed our commitment to one another. We stayed in a little hotel overlooking the sea. While Mark was occupied with hismeetings I spent my time walking along the endless beach, which unfolded before me in promise of the years we will spend together. I imagined us walking, arm in arm, towards the ends of our lives, content and at peace to be small and insignificant upon the vast canvas of land, sea and sky.
Sometimes I again had the uneasy sensation that I was being observed. But there was rarely anyone in sight; just occasionally a car parked up on the headland, facing towards the sea. Each evening we dined in a restaurant at the water’s edge, the smiles and caresses we exchanged when we had no need of words telling us everything about our love for each other. When we walked together, hand in hand, the length of the beach, under the stars, I felt that we, too, had our place in the universe, a place that belonged entirely to us, like every one of the millions of worlds whose far-distant splendour lit our way. When we made love, it was as passionate, exciting and joyous as I had dreamed it could be. I am completely happy and
It had not been Patrick’s finest hour. I had to admit it. I knew Dr Newell to be a man of integrity who had spoken out because his conscience had prompted him to do so. He had done the right thing. And Patrick? I was disappointed in him. As for me, I had come very close to the line. This new twist – the government’s denial and sullying of Dr Newell’s name – made me uncomfortable about being part of it all. In less than one week my life had been turned around, my conscience put on the line. Had I been blind or half asleep to be socareless of the dangers of the world I inhabited? Anna, who shared my desire to write words that would change lives, and the mysterious Julian, were making me question myself. And so, tired as I was and weary of the day, I had to return to one of the few things in my life that still made sense – Anna’s journal.
30 September
I have two lives: my outer life with Mark and all the excitement of a passionate love affair. Then there is my inner life, with Julian, the intimate companion of my quiet hours. Sometimes I wonder why the repose in my heart comes when I am alone with Julian and her book and not when I am with my beloved. It is my failing, of course, my inability to believe and accept that the great gift of his love is mine. It is I who create the invisible veil between us – or perhaps there is always such a veil between lovers. For who can dare to be as close as breathing? It is terrifying. The coming together of flesh and surrender of one-ness is peril and adventure enough. I long for and yet shrink from the intimacy that puts me soul to soul with my lover, such nakedness, such vulnerability. Is it always like this, for everybody?
Mark could not do more to allay my fears. He is a most attentive lover, telephoning at least once a day, even while busy and far away. I am baffled by his perception of me as dazzling and glamorous. I have always known myself to be a quiet little mouse. “It’s always exciting seeing you,” he told me yesterday. “I’m always discovering something new about you to love.”
Imperceptibly, it is Mark who is taking over my life, leaving Julian at the outer limits. My busy rehearsal schedule has to be amended continually, so that we can meet. Mark’s working life is so unpredictable, with unexpected business meetings causing him to change our plans with little warning. He is always travelling and hardly ever at his flat. Our trip to Cornwall sealed our commitment to one another. We stayed in a little hotel overlooking the sea. While Mark was occupied with hismeetings I spent my time walking along the endless beach, which unfolded before me in promise of the years we will spend together. I imagined us walking, arm in arm, towards the ends of our lives, content and at peace to be small and insignificant upon the vast canvas of land, sea and sky.
Sometimes I again had the uneasy sensation that I was being observed. But there was rarely anyone in sight; just occasionally a car parked up on the headland, facing towards the sea. Each evening we dined in a restaurant at the water’s edge, the smiles and caresses we exchanged when we had no need of words telling us everything about our love for each other. When we walked together, hand in hand, the length of the beach, under the stars, I felt that we, too, had our place in the universe, a place that belonged entirely to us, like every one of the millions of worlds whose far-distant splendour lit our way. When we made love, it was as passionate, exciting and joyous as I had dreamed it could be. I am completely happy and
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