But I was struck by the terrifying thought that someone might read it, so I tore out the pages. I was on the verge of ripping the paper up and setting fire to the scraps – and then I stopped and considered. I don’t regret what happened. It’s true that I’m unlikely to confide in Veronica about it when she returns from Spain – but I’m not ashamed.Besides, what is the point of keeping a journal, if one lies to oneself about significant events in one’s life? Especially as there really is very little chance that anyone will be able to decipher this, apart from me.So, I will start again – at the beginning this time, rather than at the end, even though that is the bit occupying most of my waking thoughts and quite a few of my dreams.Right. Well, Saturday was Julia’s birthday, and Daphne was determined that we should celebrate it with as much lavishness as the war would allow. I’d agreed to go out with them – not because I was feeling at all celebratory, but because I was too listless to argue with her.
