Well, Jo left this flat yesterday. She made it up with Martyn and he came and collected her, and it was very weird meeting him, when I knew so much intimate stuff. Like how annoying it is being on the pill with him – when it is hardly necessary – and how he’s more excited by a white stocking and suspender set than a black one, and how he howls like a wolf at good moments etc. Topiary told me that his problem is caused by drugs, but he’s told Jo that it is because he has issues with trust… So prostitutes are famously trustworthy, are they? Most men don’t seem to have trouble having sex with THEM.
I was all set to dislike Martyn because I’d been so angry with him all week to cheer up Jo , but he was a shy inoffensive sort. Very red cheeks, smells terribly strongly of soap, shoulders hunched. He seemed about half Jo’s size, but maybe that was just his personality.
And it is so blissful being free of Jo. She is an adorable person, but I did get tired of wiping up sugar-spills on the kitchen surfaces, of the mess of all the pillows and sheets on the sofa bed in the flat, of the way she was always in the bathroom when I wanted to be…
Mirabelle misses her, though. She got in the habit of sleeping on Jo’s trolley-suitcase And she also got keen on cake. I didn’t know cats ate cake. But they seem to like freshy-baked, still-warmVictoria sponge. There’s one good thing: I got Jo to try cooking things WITHOUT chocolate. So today she’s brought in walnut cake. With white frosting. It’s the best cake I’ve ever tried. But maybe her reconciliation with Martyn didn’t go that well, else otherwise why would she be making walnut cake at 5 a.m.?
