`I have to be clear. It's already over; all this - the house, my family, this ridiculous party - no longer exists... The most terrible thing will be the look on Miranda's face, the gradual opening of the abyss. Everything she knows or believes about me, her lover, her partner for fifteen years, the man who has been a stepfather to her daughter, is untrue. Or if not untrue - for I've tried not to tell unnecessary lies - then partial, incomplete.
Listen to me. Partial, incomplete. I'm even lying to myself. It could hardly be worse: she doesn't even know my real name...'
Listen to me. Partial, incomplete. I'm even lying to myself. It could hardly be worse: she doesn't even know my real name...'