” I started crying andlaid my head on his arm. “You just get back and now I’mgoing to jail and I missed you and I love you…...21; Iblubbered on and on and he rubbed my hair in sympathy.“You won’t go to jail. We’ll tell them what happened.It’ll be okay, I promise.”Sirens wailed and the red lights flashed through thewindow telling us the ambulance was here. I ran downstairs and tripped over the baby-gate at the bottom. Myknee twisted and came. "Come on," she said, her head nudging towards the door to the hallway. "Living room."*I have since wondered that if the conversation hadn't taken place in the living room, with both of us on the cosy two-seater, then things might have been different.But it did go that way. We were both on the sofa, Jean's legs crossed, her initial pose all closed in, almost defensive, her thigh a barrier between us. Like I was excluded.Which is what Jean intended. To exclude me. That was her aim when she. More

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