moved in, and I checked each one, turning and re-turning the keys six times so that I knew they were secure. Then I closed the curtains, pulling them right across on each side so that there wasn’t a fragment of dark window showing. Then I turned on the light beside the bed. For a moment I sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply, trying to calm the rising panic. At 7:30 p.m. there was a show I wanted to watch. The bedside clock said that the time was 7:27 p.m. I wanted to go and watch television. But the panic was still there, despite reasoning with myself, despite telling myself that I’d done it all, I’d checked everything, there was nothing to worry about, the flat was secure, I was safe, I was home safe for another day.
My heart was still pounding.
With a sigh, I got up from my bed and crossed to the front door, to start it all over again.
This cannot continue. It’s been more than three years. It has to stop, it has to stop.
This time I went through the whole process of checking the door twelve times before I moved on to the front window.
Sunday 16 November 2003
In the end, it wasn’t at the River; it was back at the gym.
Friday night had been a bit pathetic, really. Too many nights out on the trot with no time to recover. It was all catching up with me and I felt tired, irrationally miserable and not at all inclined to go hunting for sexy doormen. We had three drinks in the Pitcher and Piano, a further two in the Queen’s Head, and by that time I’d had enough. Sylvia looked at me as though I was joking when I said I was heading for home. Saturday I spent recovering, watching movies on the sofa.
On Sunday morning I woke up at ten, feeling refreshed for the first time in weeks. Outside the sun was shining, the air crisp and still, a great day to go for a run. I’d do that, then go and shop for some healthy food, have an early night.
A few steps on the icy sidewalk put an end to that idea. Instead, I bundled some clean clothes into my bag and drove the five miles to the gym.
This time, I recognized him before he saw me. He was standing by the swimming pool, adjusting a pair of goggles. Not bothering to worry about whether he could see through the glass window to where I stood ogling him, I watched him slide into the water and kick off the wall into an easy, gliding front crawl. The water barely moved as he slipped through it. I watched him do two laps, hypnotized by his rhythm, until someone almost fell over my gym bag and broke the spell.
In the locker room, I stowed the bag in a locker and pulled out my iPod, strapping it to my arm. As I headed for the gym, I caught sight of myself in one of the mirrors. My cheeks were flushed, and the look in my eyes made me stop short. My God, I thought, unable to wipe the stupid grin off my face, he really is fucking sexy.
Monday 12 November 2007
After work this evening something out of the ordinary happened.
Out-of-the-ordinary things are never good for me. Sometimes, if I’m having a good day, I can look back on them and smile, but at the time it’s never good. The day the pipes burst and the plumber had to come into my flat caused the biggest panic attack I’ve had.
I still don’t know how I survived that one.
I’m wondering about this evening, because at the moment I’m okay. I’m half expecting a panic attack to hit me later on, just when I’m least prepared for it, but at the moment everything is okay and I feel all right.
I had just finished eating, and there was a knock at the door.
I froze, my whole body tense. I don’t think I even breathed. My door buzzer hadn’t sounded, so it was either someone in the house, or the door had been left unlocked again. Whatever—even if my life depended on it, my body wasn’t going to let me move an inch. I felt tears sliding down my cheeks.
Another knock, slightly louder. Nobody has ever knocked on my flat door before.
I had a clear view to the door from where I was sitting on the sofa, stared at it and