more fulfilled that I ever imagined possible.
4 October
London seems too big and too loud. Mark’s work schedule is more frenetic than ever, with a great deal of travelling. And rehearsals are occupying even more of my time. But nothing can keep us apart. We spend every moment we possibly can together. I am finding the need for clothes of a kind I have never worn before. Last week Mark instructed me to “get my glad rags on” for a charity event at the Savoy Hotel, one of London’s grandest.
12 October
The grand life suits me. It’s a great surprise. I treated myself to a black strapless sheath dress of jersey silk. It is very beautiful. A diamanté buckle at the top right of the bodice holds in placea sweeping trail of the soft jersey fabric, which folds over my shoulder and undulates gently as I walk. I had my hair put up by a hairdresser, and for once the unmanageable curls came into their own, a carefully selected few spilling out to frame and soften my face. The lipstick I chose was a vibrant red. In my cowardly way, I chose a softer pink for my nails, which were manicured professionally. The reflection I saw in the mirror was of an attractive, sophisticated woman. Where had she come from? Where had she been hiding for the whole of my life? I glowed with love, from being loved. In the intimacy of making love to my beloved, had some essence entered me – as he had entered me, leaving behind his essence, gleaming and glistening upon my skin – an essence that had suffused me to cast upon my skin a delicate, shimmering glow?
I never thought that I could play the part of consort, of the pampered woman, whose appearance, expensive to maintain, was well worth the money and effort. I never thought I could walk into a grand room, full of grand people, on the arm of a man who was clever, witty, sophisticated and accepted in such company, and be introduced as his equal. I never thought I could keep pace with such people – though intellectually I had nothing to fear – with their knowledge of the world and their easy familiarity with the trappings money and position bring. This was another world and a far distant one from my modest childhood in a northern town and my adult experience of dusty academia. From Mark’s behaviour, you would have thought he was accompanying some celebrated sophisticate. He introduced me as a well-known writer and theatre director. One or two people even pretended to have heard of me; that amused me, because they could not possibly have done, since I am small fry. We danced together. Mark moved beautifully and took me with him, so that I seemed to move beautifully as well. I was Cinderella at the ball and I wanted the evening never to end. After the party we walked, hand in hand, along the Embankment. We sat on a bench and looked across the River Thames.
I thought Mark seemed a little sad. He told me he wanted to sell his company in five years’ time. He said, “Then you and I can sail away, just the two of us, and leave everything behind.” He began to sing, looking into my eyes, “’Are the stars out tonight’… ” He finished the song and said quietly, “I do love you, you know.”
We remained there, Mark’s arm around my shoulders, for several minutes. A sudden breeze rippled the water and made me shiver. Was someone watching us, away in the shadows beneath the trees? Why do I keep having this feeling of being observed? I turned towards Mark. He was looking at me with an expression of concern and worry. I asked if he was all right. He put his jacket around my shoulders, saying of course he was and that everything was fine. But I sense that he’s worried about something. He never talks about his work, but I know it causes him a great deal of stress. His old Army contacts turn up from time to time, sometimes asking for money, he says. Mark is a generous friend and helps them out when he can. Once this play is over, I shall take time off, so that we can see each other more
4 October
London seems too big and too loud. Mark’s work schedule is more frenetic than ever, with a great deal of travelling. And rehearsals are occupying even more of my time. But nothing can keep us apart. We spend every moment we possibly can together. I am finding the need for clothes of a kind I have never worn before. Last week Mark instructed me to “get my glad rags on” for a charity event at the Savoy Hotel, one of London’s grandest.
12 October
The grand life suits me. It’s a great surprise. I treated myself to a black strapless sheath dress of jersey silk. It is very beautiful. A diamanté buckle at the top right of the bodice holds in placea sweeping trail of the soft jersey fabric, which folds over my shoulder and undulates gently as I walk. I had my hair put up by a hairdresser, and for once the unmanageable curls came into their own, a carefully selected few spilling out to frame and soften my face. The lipstick I chose was a vibrant red. In my cowardly way, I chose a softer pink for my nails, which were manicured professionally. The reflection I saw in the mirror was of an attractive, sophisticated woman. Where had she come from? Where had she been hiding for the whole of my life? I glowed with love, from being loved. In the intimacy of making love to my beloved, had some essence entered me – as he had entered me, leaving behind his essence, gleaming and glistening upon my skin – an essence that had suffused me to cast upon my skin a delicate, shimmering glow?
I never thought that I could play the part of consort, of the pampered woman, whose appearance, expensive to maintain, was well worth the money and effort. I never thought I could walk into a grand room, full of grand people, on the arm of a man who was clever, witty, sophisticated and accepted in such company, and be introduced as his equal. I never thought I could keep pace with such people – though intellectually I had nothing to fear – with their knowledge of the world and their easy familiarity with the trappings money and position bring. This was another world and a far distant one from my modest childhood in a northern town and my adult experience of dusty academia. From Mark’s behaviour, you would have thought he was accompanying some celebrated sophisticate. He introduced me as a well-known writer and theatre director. One or two people even pretended to have heard of me; that amused me, because they could not possibly have done, since I am small fry. We danced together. Mark moved beautifully and took me with him, so that I seemed to move beautifully as well. I was Cinderella at the ball and I wanted the evening never to end. After the party we walked, hand in hand, along the Embankment. We sat on a bench and looked across the River Thames.
I thought Mark seemed a little sad. He told me he wanted to sell his company in five years’ time. He said, “Then you and I can sail away, just the two of us, and leave everything behind.” He began to sing, looking into my eyes, “’Are the stars out tonight’… ” He finished the song and said quietly, “I do love you, you know.”
We remained there, Mark’s arm around my shoulders, for several minutes. A sudden breeze rippled the water and made me shiver. Was someone watching us, away in the shadows beneath the trees? Why do I keep having this feeling of being observed? I turned towards Mark. He was looking at me with an expression of concern and worry. I asked if he was all right. He put his jacket around my shoulders, saying of course he was and that everything was fine. But I sense that he’s worried about something. He never talks about his work, but I know it causes him a great deal of stress. His old Army contacts turn up from time to time, sometimes asking for money, he says. Mark is a generous friend and helps them out when he can. Once this play is over, I shall take time off, so that we can see each other more
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