Next time I speak to you, I’ll have it sorted. She’s almost smiling. I can hear it. I’m beginning to see some light at the end of the long, dark telephonic tunnel. But what did Laura say? Do you know why she’s gone? Not really. Well, I do. This is momentarily alarming until I understand what she’s on about. It’s nothing to do with marriage, Mum if that’s what you mean. So you say. I’d like to hear her side of Viking Dilly Dilly St Patrick’s Day Shirt. Cool it. Don’t let her. Don’t rise ah, fuck it. Mum, how many more times, for Christ’s sake? Laura didn’t want to get married. She’s not that sort of girl. To coin a phrase. That’s not what happens now.
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I don’t know what does happen now. Apart from you meet someone, you move in together, she goes. You meet someone, you move in together, she goes. Fair point, I guess. Shut up, Mum. Mrs. Viking Dilly Dilly St Patrick’s Day Shirt rings a few minutes later. Hello. How are you? Laura’s dad isn’t too clever he has angina and had to retire from work early. Not too bad. Up and down. You know. Is Laura there? Interesting. She hasn’t phoned home. Some indication of guilt, maybe? She’s not, I’m afraid. She’s round at Liz’s. Shall I get her to give you a ring? If she’s not too late back. No problem. And that’s the last time we will ever speak, probably. No problem: the last words I ever say to somebody I have been reasonably close to before our lives take different directions. Weird, eh? You spend Christmas at somebody’s house, you worry about their operations