Therapy

because he looked such a fool standing there with the scissors in his hand. I said, “What were you going to do with those, castrate me?” He said, “I was going to cut your ponytail off.”
    I don’t want to press charges. To be perfectly honest I’d rather not have to give evidence in court which might be reported in the local press. It could have a damaging effect on my work. Some of the members of the Club are prejudiced, I’m afraid. I’m not ashamed of being gay, but I’m discreet about it. I live a fair distance from the Club, and nobody there knows anything about my private life. I don’t think Mr Passmore will cause me any more trouble, and he’s offered to pay for the broken panes of glass.
     

* * AMY * *
     
     
    WELL, THE MOST AWFUL THING has happened. Laurence’s wife wants a separation. He called me last night to tell me. I knew at once it must be something catastrophique because I’ve told him not to phone me at home unless it’s terribly important. I have to go upstairs to my bedroom extension, and Zelda always wants to know afterwards who called and what it was about, and I wouldn’t put it past her to listen in on the downstairs phone. We have a routine that Laurence phones me at the office in the lunch hour or I call him when he’s at his flat. I know you think I should be more upfront with Zelda about my relationship with Laurence, but — No, I know you haven’t said as much, Karl, but I can tell. Well, of course, if you insist, I must take your word, but I suppose it’s possible that subconsciously you disapprove. I mean, if I can suppress things, I suppose it’s possible you can, too, isn’t it? Or are you sure you’re absolutely completely totally superhumanly rational? Sorry, sorry. I’m very upset, I hardly slept a wink last night. No, he had no idea. He’s utterly devastated. Apparently she just marched into his study on Friday evening and announced that she wanted a separation. Just like that. Said she just couldn’t stand living with him any more, he was like a zombie, that was the word she used, a zombie. Well, he is often a little distrait , I have to admit, but writers often are, in my experience. I should have thought she’d be used to it by now, but evidently not. She said they didn’t communicate, and they didn’t have anything in common any more, and now that the children were grown up and had left home there was no point their going on living together.
    Lorenzo spent the whole weekend trying to talk her out of it, but to no avail. Well, I think first he tried to argue that there was nothing wrong with the marriage, that it was like any other marriage, something to do with repetition and Kierkegaard, I couldn’t quite follow it, he was hardly coherent, poor dear. Yes, he’s developed a thing about Kierkegaard lately, for some reason. Anyway, when that didn’t work he changed tack and said he would turn over a new leaf and talk to her at meals and take an interest in her work and go away with her on Weekend Breaks and that sort of thing, but she said it was too late.
    Sally. Her name’s Sally. I’ve only met her a few times, mostly at parties given by Heartland, and she always struck me as rather guarded and self-contained. She likes to make one drink last the whole evening and stay cold sober while all around her are getting smashed. I think it confirms her sense of what a worthless load of layabouts we television folk are. Goodlooking in a rather noli me tangere way. High cheekbones, a strong chin. A bit like Patricia Hodge, but more athletic, more windbeaten. Oh. I keep forgetting that you never go to the theatre or watch television. What on earth do you do in your spare time? Oh, I might have guessed. Do you read Kierkegaard? He doesn’t sound my cup of tea. Or Laurence’s either, come to that. I wonder what he sees in him. No, Laurence asked her if there was anyone else, and she says there isn’t. I asked him if it was conceivable that Sally suspected there was something between him and me, something more than what there actually is I mean, which is entirely innocent, as you know, but he said absolutely not. Well, she knows that we’re good friends but I don’t think she has any idea how often we see each other outside work and I wondered if someone had been gossiping or sending poison-pen letters, but Laurence said she didn’t mention my name or accuse him of anything like that. Oh dear. Quel cauchemar!
    I should have thought it was