Cryptic lives we lead. We don’t even know ourselves. Paul says: ‘For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as I was fully known.’ V. found her in a dance club in a boat by the Danube. Did he seek her out? During lockdown he invited her to practise dancing with her in the Prater. I’d cycle over and watch them, then cycle home again. She’d come back with Russian tea and caviar. He was Russian, and her boss was the son of a Russian defector, funded by the American military. Who knows what they’re up to now.

   What was I doing? Why had I come to this deeply foreign city in the first place? I didn’t have it in me to act – to bike to the park and take a bat to him, for example. What would that have achieved? The whole thing was already wrong. I wasn’t present enough for her, I wasn’t there. And there’s nothing worse for a woman than indifference.

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