My Secret Lover

there.
    He’s probably working.
    I wonder what he does?
    If he’s ninety-two, he’ll be retired,
of course.
     
    I’m at a bit of a loose end.
    I have done my preparation for
tomorrow at school.
    Andy is visiting Fiordiligi, who’s in
hospital on a drip.
     
    I ring Michelle.
    ‘Do you fancy a movie?’
    ‘Sorry. I’m doing friendsreunited.’
    ‘You’re always doing friendsreunited.
I’m a friend. Reunite with me.’
    ‘You should join,’ she says. ‘Do you
remember Patricia Hewitt?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Apparently, she now Secretary of
State for Trade and Industry.’
    ‘It’s not the same one.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘Pat Hewitt went into her dad’s
undertaking business.’
    ‘Cheeky cow!’ says Michelle.
    I can hear her keyboard tapping away
in the background.
     
    There are twins on Millionaire. They take the money at £64,000, when I would have won £125,000 by myself. I
should dedicate the evening to ringing the Millionaire number, to get us
on Newly Weds, although I’d rather do it on Andy’s phone. I read in Heat, or was it G2, that one of the people who won a million invested £1,000
in phone calls in order to get through. You have to have a professional
approach.
     
    The deadline for applications for the
senior teacher’s post is looming.
    I should take advantage of my free
evening and update my CV.
     
    My CV does not need much updating
because I haven’t actually done anything different since getting this job, ten,
no it can’t be ten, yes it is, years ago.
     
    I know! I will make a list of Things
to Do for my wedding.
     
    Really, I need Andy here to do this
properly, and he can’t concentrate until Cosi’s out of the way.
     
    Probably sensible to get an early
night.
     
    There is one new message in my Inbox!
     
    Guess? A
     
    42? L
     
    Almost correct. I was when I set up
this e-mail address, but I've recently had a birthday. A
    Do you have a different age that
automatically pops into your head when someone asks you? Mine's 22. L
     
    43, at the moment. A
     
    Oh dear. L
     
    By the way, I do like Kurosawa's
films, but prefer Godfathers I and II , if honest. What's your
favourite film? A
     
    I always say Les Enfants du
Paradis by Claude someone French, but then I'm terrified that someone will
ask me questions about it, and I've only seen it once. Which doesn't
necessarily mean anything, actually, because there are some films I don't
really like at all but could answer any question in the world about. I know
practically every frame of No Way Out starring Kevin Costner, for
instance, because it often seems to be on late at night if I've dozed off
during Newsnight . Stupid plot, but he does look nice in that white
uniform.
    Probably Sleepless in Seattle if I'm totally honest, which is weird because I don't fancy Tom Hanks.
     
    Do you do this often, by the way?
Writing to total strangers? L
     
    Never before. You popped into my
Inbox like a woman in a cake. Weird and wonderful things don't happen very
often. Do you? A
     
    No! Am I a weird and wonderful thing?
I'm not the sort of woman you'd put in a cake, by the way. L
     
    What sort of woman are you? A
     
    I've just had a great idea. Why don't
we do twenty questions? Much cheaper than Casino Games, and cheaper even than Millionaire online because you don't win anything unless you pay to play. L
     
    Do you mean like animal, mineral,
vegetable? A
     
    I'll give you a starter for free. I'm
animal. L
     
    Grrr! A
     
    I meant in a defining sense.
     
    Rules are: we each have twenty
questions. Yes/No answers only. The person whose turn it is keeps going until
they get a No, then the other takes over. The one who finds out the most about
the other one wins. L
     
    But how will we tell? A
     
    Good point. Let's limit it to jobs,
then. The one who finds out the other one's job wins. No lying, otherwise
there's no point. Agreed? L
     
    You're very keen on rules. Is this
something to do with your job? A
     
    Yes. 19. L
     
    Do you wear a uniform? A
     
    No. 18. But I admire the question.
Slightly fetishistic, but you've knocked out several professions with the loss
of just one point. Do you wear a uniform? L
     
    Not usually. 19. A
     
    Not usually. What's that supposed to
mean? L
     
    Look. I've got to run. Work. I'll
come back to you. AX
     
    Clearly, I am getting warm.
    But what sort of work could he be
doing at this time of night?

26
     
    ‘Miss, Jesus died at Easter, didn’t
he?’
    Suitably sad and serious