If either of those (not them – those) – if either of them tried to make an entrance now, I’m not sure what I would say.
Could I trust them ever again? How many years has it been now?
No. I’m not talking of Ruth or Hortense, but another two –
Pearl. And Dean.
But – sorry, I can’t push this.
Sometimes, I feel as though I have a death’s-head.
I know. It’s not very nice, is it?
But, sometimes, my mouth stretches in a snarl, and I bare my teeth.
And I’m like a skull-gone-wrong.
Sorry. It’s not so pretty, but it’s what I live, sometimes, and I feel as though I do need to apologise . . .
You mean I’m not supposed to show my feelings?
I’m supposed to keep up a pretence at all times? – who me? – yes, I’m okay – oh no – it didn’t bother me.
Not at all.
I am so sweet-and-innocent . . .