She's not sure if she's spoken the words or just thought them. Whatever, it is time to brave another day. Richard Murton, once but all too briefly the secret man in Gemma's life, can claim no such impetus. He lies in his small, nasty little flat, as if shut up in a cell. He can leave this place whenever he likes, so it is no prison, except that he always takes his confinement with him.
Last night lies heavy.
Other pictures come and go too, postcards from a happier time. Gemma arrives in his mind, flushed with the pink danger of what they did. He sees Julie too in the ordinary, glorious, boring old normality. Then Gemma comes again, all angry and bitter, wriggling to get away. He feels his own fury, which isn't fiery like it should be, but cold and sour, heavy as a brick.