‘I have no intention of burdening her – and just in case you’re thinking about all the rest of that stuff that goes on between men and women, don’t worry. I like her, but she’s not my cup of tea. Never would be even if I were …’

‘Were?’

‘Free.’

He nodded and turned towards the door.

She watched him move through the dark café. As he got to the door she called after him, ‘There’s a butcher halfway along the street on the right. He sells free-range chickens.’

I can smell chicken cooking.

I wonder if he knows how to use an Aga? I would hate my chicken to be charred.

I will resist going out and offering to give him a hand. Apart from the fact that I wouldn’t want to humiliate him, I feel he owes me a meal. I am saving him from himself. A fact I do not think he is aware of.

I think it is probably pulp nonsense that I am writing, but I will finish it through, my notes anyway so that I can look with a certain coolness at how I allowed myself to be duped and then … and then … what word should I use? The one that springs to mind is ‘destroyed’, but that is way over the top. ‘Damaged’ would be more accurate. And of course there is the matter of my future, my immortality, only I can secure that now.

Does it matter anyway?

Immortality.

Needy vanity.

Anyway I want to cure myself – not just the bodily wounds, but those in my heart and soul. My belly will always carry a scar, but I see no reason why I should tolerate them in any other part of my being.

I know what advice my mother would give if I were to broach such thoughts.

Exercise in moderation, given my post-operative condition.

Good healthy food.

Lots of sleep.

Sea bathing.

Work.

Getting out and seeing your friends.

No introspection.

I’ve had all this advice before. I’ve also heard it being given to others. My sisters. My nieces.

It’s not advice she gives to men.

She never mentions God.

She herself has some brisk kind of relationship with God; consisting mainly I think of her telling Him where He’s going wrong, but she doesn’t expect any of us either to believe or disbelieve. I think she thinks that she is better at looking after us than He could ever possibly be.

‘No man is worth breaking your heart over.’ I heard her say that to my sister Rosie once ages ago, when Rosie had just been dumped by some rugby-playing jerk. ‘Particularly not that man!’ I misguidedly put in my tuppenceworth – at which moment they both turned and ate the face off me! That’s what you get for involving yourself in family life.

No introspection.

‘You think too much, Clara.’ She says that quite frequently. I exasperate her quite frequently.