A compulsive insight into an age when the love that dare not speak its name led to a dangerous, secretive and ultimately obsessive lifestyle.
Fortunately I had just put my teacup down or I think I would have dropped it. As it was I blushed horribly (blood everywhere) and just told him. Blurted it out. Obviously it was a bit embarrassing, because there he was talking about his twenty-first being a major social event, and the fact that mine was going to be on the same day made the difference between us all the more obvious somehow. Someone like me, who worked in a shop, even if it was the biggest shop in London, was hardly going to start talking about coming into estates and running things how he really wanted to. My idea of a celebration was very different to his.