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143 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 19, 2014



‘I also knew he believed I was lonely and ought to spend more time with young men than I did with myself and my books and the giggling prostitutes with whom we worked at night.
I suppose that one backfired on him. This is a memoir of love, after all.’
“... I lie there in my bed in the dark and I wonder how can I make Archie Wilkes believe I'm clever and interesting and worth knowing? Then I see you and words don't seem to make sense any more, because all my mouth wants to do is kiss you. But now, even now I'm allowed to kiss you, when I do then all over again I try to think of things to say to you after.”
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I folded my love up tight and tucked it away, unexamined and ignored, until the night of Archie's first private photograph session – then it took flight, and it soared.
I remembered Tennyson's mournful reminder that 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all but in that moment I wished fervently that Archie had saved Mr Everett from that horse and then faded quietly out of our lives, for this inexplicable anger we suddenly felt for one another was almost too painful to bear.
