Every Last Cent

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AN ANTIQUE is an antique is an antique, but only sometimes. A woman is a woman for ever. When the two come together life is dangerous. Always remember my law of antiques: it's not the money, it's the price.

Have you ever been so cold that your feet simply aren't there, and the warm light in your middle threatens to go out? Standing in the undergrowth, two o'clock on a frosty morning, listening to a gorgeous woman making love to some other undeserving slob in my – my – thatched cottage, I felt even colder.

The frost worsened towards midnight. It crunched underfoot as I tried to get warm. I could see the log fire – my fireplace, my logs, their warmth – reflecting a reddish sheen along the windowsill. A couple of times I tried to peer in but the woman had pinned my threadbare curtains over the grotty panes. That's trust for you, I thought bitterly. One good thing: in the morning she'd pay. I'd be able to eat.

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