And for fifty-five years I have been telling it as a girl who would not stay.
And he spent those years writing to an address I had left, keeping his own letters, burning mine — doing all of the work of a man who had been abandoned.
And both of us knew which of us had said no first.
The week.
I said yes on the sixteenth and we did it on the eighteenth.
And in the seven days in between I did something that I have not been able to get out from under.
I looked up the house.
On the Tuesday, at home, on the same laptop. Reith, the address on Carrow Hill, what it went for when the one next door sold in 2023.
And then the business, and whether there was anything left of it.
And it took about forty minutes and I was not planning anything and I did not tell a soul.
