My Secret Lover

Michelle.
    ‘It hasn’t been about Robert Redford
for years,’ I say. ‘I’m talking about someone you really don’t know. Don’t even
know what he looks like.’
    ‘Internet dating?’
    ‘Not exactly.’
    ‘Like me and Declan!’ says Michelle,
enthusiastically, as if I’ve just joined some cult she’s got herself involved
in.
    ‘You two do know each other, I point
out.
    ‘But it’s different when it’s just
you and him meeting somewhere up in the sky, isn’t it?’ says Michelle. ‘Yes,’ I
say. ‘It is different, isn’t it?’
    Swing. Swing.
    We’ve both got dreamy smiles on our
faces now. ‘What’s he like?’ Michelle wants to know.
    ‘He’s funny and a bit troubled and I
feel I can talk to him about anything.’
    ‘Everything?’ asks Michelle.
    ‘Almost everything.’
    ‘Sounds perfect! Who is he?’
    ‘That’s the weird thing. I don’t know
who he is or what he does or where he is. Part of me is desperate to know, and
part of me doesn’t really want to find out. You can be more honest,’ I say.
    ‘Or you can lie more easily.’
    ‘There’s no point in lying with
someone you don’t know, is there? If you’re not going to be honest, you might
as well not bother.’
    ‘Like a priest,’ says Michelle.
    ‘Sort of. He’s always up really late
at night. He gets me through the small hours when I can’t sleep.’
    ‘Like a radio phone-in?’
    ‘Sort of.’
    ‘Maybe he’s in a different time
zone?’
    ‘Maybe.’
    Hadn’t thought of that. Michelle’s had
more experience of Internet dating.
    Not that we are dating. We’re just
talking all night.
    I look across the park. The view
hasn’t changed much since we used to sit here in our navy uniforms, our long
white socks around our ankles, debating the merits of roll-on versus spray
deodorant, and giving the boys who passed on their way to the soccer pitches
marks out of ten for skin quality and snoggability.
    I feel an involuntary smile come to
my face.
    ‘He’s made me think about being a
better person,’ I say.
    Michelle just looks at me.
    ‘You’re like The Thorn Birds,’ she says.
    ‘What?’
    ‘She fell in love, with a priest.
Ralph Bric-a-brac or something?’
    ‘De Bricassart,’ I correct her. ‘He’s
not a priest. And anyway, I’m not in love. You can’t possibly fall in love with
someone you’ve never met,’ I assure her.
    ‘Better be getting back,’ says
Michelle. ‘We don’t want to miss the Beckhams’ party.’
     
    * * *
     
    My mouse glides over:
    Kashmir: Pakistan refuses to rule out
nuclear option
    and:
    The Stars Are Out. Beckhams' World
Cup Party
    Click on COMPOSE.
     
    I've decided to get people to give to
charity instead of a wedding list. L
     
    Good idea. A
     
    You're not a priest, are you? L
     
    No. 7. A
     
    NSPCC, because I work with children,
not just because the Beckhams had it for their World Cup party. Is there
anything more grotesque, by the way, than a celebrity auction? Why can't famous
people just get pleasure from being good? Why do they have to have David
Beckham's boots as well? I think the Beckhams should have charged £5,000 per
ticket. Then they would have raised £2 million and still had his old boots to
sell if they ever needed to. And who wouldn't pay £5,000 for an invite to that
party? My suggested wedding contribution is £25. I'm going to get it printed on
the invitations. L
     
    Doesn't NSPCC get enough? How about Médecins
sans Frontieres? A
     
    Interesting suggestion. Are you a
doctor? L
    I wish. But no. 6. A
     
    I don't think my mother would like
anything French. Are you in a different time zone? L
     
    Yes. 5. A
     
    That's why you can chat all night.
Because it's not all night? L
     
    Sort of. I'm about to be sent
somewhere else. Won't be able to chat except early in the morning for you. A
     
    Is it somewhere dangerous? L
     
    Yes, it is rather. 4.
     
    A Take care. XL
     
    It's the first time you've Xed me!
Good night. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXA
     
    It really is ridiculous to be counting,
because he probably just pressed the X key until the end of the line. But if he
did do it deliberately, there are three more than last time.

40
     
    How can I be a better person?
    I shall give money to the needy.
    Not directly though. I recently
bought a Brie and Bacon baguette for the homeless person who sits in the tube
station forecourt with the sign saying ‘Hungry’.
    He said thank you and pointed out
that I was getting a cold sore on my lower lip. The