My husband came back for the weekend and then went again. Maybe the flies carried him away on their sticky feet? I had put the children to bed after the usual two hour performance involving baths, books and bollockings. I had lain next to the six-year-old and said: "I love you so much. Do you know that?" And he said: "No. How much do you love me?" And I said: "I love you brighter than the stars." He said: "Do you love me more than Daddy?" I said: "Yes. That's just the way it is." He said: "More than Granny?" and I said: "Yes." and thought: "Don't tell her though." "More than television?" No contest. "More than your make-up?" More than that even. I said: "I love you so much if there was a tiger coming up the road and it was hungry I would let it eat me so you could run away." He rolled over, into me: "I think the tiger would change his mind and not want to eat you." I said: "You're right. We could invite it for tea instead."He said: "I don't think that happens. Only in books." I said: "Well, we shall ask the next tiger we meet and see if he says 'Yes'."
Once I had lost him to sleep, I came downstairs to the kitchen. I pushed the table against the hearth and cleared the chairs to one side. I thought: "I can sweep the floor. Clear it of crumbs, mop off the dirt and wait for it to dry or I can dance." I pressed eject to open up the CD drawer on my laptop, fed it and thought: "It has been an age since I went to a club. Will anyone buy me a drink?" Acoustic guitars and fiddles gushed out into the warm air to catch in the gobbets of crystal hanging from the chandelier. Folk rock spun me one way then the other. I like to dance; always have. I closed my eyes a while. I have a gay best boyfriend. He cool shimmies on the dance floor, hands behind his back, dandy hips asway. He and I do this thing. On the dance floor. We step around and round, twirling to face each other and then away. Anyone watching who did not know I am his hag, he is my gay best friend, would think we have hot sex and oftentime. But we do not, will not, cannot think of such a thing. Instead, we dance, caressing with a smile, loving each other in the beat . I danced with him last night. I could not tell him so. I wonder, later, in his London bed, if he dreamt he danced with me.