And she came round at about half eight that evening and sat in my kitchen and I was in a state that I am not going to describe because I do not think I have ever been in one like it before or since.
And at some point in that evening I said a sentence.
And for two years I have been absolutely certain I never said it.
I have said to myself, in the car, in the shower, about four hundred times: I never told her to do that. She decided. She took it on herself.
It is in the notebook.
Sixteenth of September, 2023. In her handwriting, written down that night or the next day, because she is the sort of person who writes things down.
D asked me to make it stop. Her words: "Just get rid of them. I can't have them in the house."
Her words. I said that in my own kitchen to my best friend at about ten o'clock at night.
