To return to the story of G: we’d got as far as me raising the shutters of the shop each day at 9 a.m. Well, early one morning, the goddess reappeared in the shop. I was by myself; my business partner used to come in the afternoons. She reappeared, strangely enough, at a height altogether more appropriate to my own, having swapped the heels she’d been wearing to match the athlete for others that were very much within reach of my five foot nine and three quarter inches. And what’s more: she was no longer addressing me formally. And what’s more: she asked me to get hold of some books for her, and gave me her phone number. And what’s more – know, reader, that tears are stinging my eyes as I write this. And what’s more: before she left, she told me she had separated from her husband.

What is there in these tears? I don’t know. Perhaps pain, shame, self-pity, humiliation, longing. I don’t know, I don’t know. Please excuse me, reader; for years now I’ve been waiting in vain for some tears. Leave me by myself for a few moments, and then I’ll carry on with the story.