Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Upstairs in this place. I'm going to take a string of pearls away with me. It's mine anyway, so that's okay. But then it's much longer than I thought. Twice round the neck is not enough. And apart from pearls in a row, I find it also has those chunky, fashionable glass and acrylic shapes. I'm worried now that it might not be mine, after all. I take it off and put it in my coat pocket where it barely fits. Down a flight of stairs and J.... is working on the landing floorboards, by an open door to a grand, empty room. Without ceasing to work, he makes his usual self-possessed and good-humored banter about me leaving. Normally I would stay a while and go into the room, but I'm too worried that he will notice the pocket of my coat bulging with the huge necklace, which I try to keep turned away from him. Even though it was mine, I feel like I am stealing it from the house.