Oh, God! I just can't make up my mind about this woman. I wish I knew whether I could really trust her. I don't think I can, every time I think about it rationally I think, don't be stupid Simone, of course you can't. She goes out every weekend, picks up some bloke and fucks his brains out. Nothing wrong with that, if that's what you like doing. But it doesn't leave her very well qualified for the role of confidante, does it? And yet, when I'm talking to her, when she's being herself, quiet, thoughtful, friendly, not doing all this shit about how many lovers she's had, she's totally different. I find myself opening up to her. Find myself saying things I can't believe I'm saying.

Twice today I nearly found myself spilling out my life to her. Once she said something about chopping onions, and I said they make you cry, to which she replied you get used to it. I said something like "You never get used to it." All the time I was thinking about Steve, of course, going through the old history again. I swear if she had probed a bit more, I might have ended up telling her about it. I was that close. I've never been so close to talking about it before, never. But then she changed the subject, and the moment passed.

Later on, I nearly did it again. This time I was on the verge of talking about it, because I'd had Steve on my mind since earlier, and it was preying on me. "Have you ever been in love?" she asked. "Just the once," I said. She asked what happened, and I said "life, you know", etc etc. It almost came out then. It actually did, once, but in a voice so low it was only barely audible, and Margaret missed it. I was in such a state. I was so confused. I've never wanted to talk about things before, but now I don't know, maybe I do want to talk to her about it. But why her? Why Margaret? It's crazy. She wouldn't even be interested, godammit. She'd think I was bloody mad.

She said a lovely thing later on, though. I asked if she'd ever been in love. "Once and forever," she said. Isn't that beautiful? So romantic, I love that. Once and forever. I keep saying it in my mind. Once and forever. Oh to love, and know it is for once and forever. And to be loved, loved once and forever. How lucky a person could be.

But the thing about Margaret's once and forever love is that it's unrequited. The bloke doesn't know about it. How ironic is that? The woman has a love life like Joan Collins, and the bloke she really loves doesn't know anything about it. I said to her "does he know?" and she said no. So I told her to do something about it, sort it out. Here am I, Miss Relationships 2001, handing out the advice...*L* But I'm right. No use letting things fester, no use concealing these things. Get them out in the open, talk about them. If only Steve and I had done that...

On to next story: The Raj: our narrator's version