Diary of a Provincial Lesbian by V. G. Lee Page A

did.
    ‘Legally I don’t think you can put up a fence over six feet without planning permission.’
    Deirdre looks annoyed, anxious and betrayed, ‘I don’t believe it.’
    ‘I think you’ll find I’m right.’
    The sisters look relieved. Vera says to Morag, ‘We don’t object to six foot do we Morag?’
    ‘But I object to six foot,’ expostulates Deirdre. ‘I’ll still be able to see your washing line and your prop.’ She shudders.
    ‘Surely that’s not so bad?’ I ask reasonably.
    She turns her back on the sisters and mouths, ‘and their pants.’
    Have discussed Deirdre’s neighbours’ pants before. Have stood in her back bedroom and surreptitiously viewed these pants. The sisters take a voluminous size and they wear and wash in bulk - most drying days there’s a line full of faded, large knickers flapping cheerfully in the breeze.
    ‘Now Deirdre,’ I appeal gently.
    ‘Oh for goodness sake, okay. Six foot but will you two promise not to set your prop at such a high setting. Would you accept a whirly line if I paid for it?’
    Sisters look at each other, appalled at offer of whirly line.
    ‘Oh no, Deirdre, a woman in the local paper was almost garrotted by her whirly line. And anyway you don’t get a good air supply filtering between your washed items.’
    ‘Ever considered a tumble dryer?’ Deirdre asks silkily.
    ‘Never!’ the sisters say.
     
     
    March 15 th
    All systems go next door. Deirdre is not a woman to hang about. Woman gardener arrived in a dilapidated lorry with two others and a cement mixer. As yet can’t pick her out as they are all swathed in concealing outdoor clothes. Weather quite mild yet they look ready to attempt Mont Blanc.
    The fences on both sides of Deirdre’s garden are down and Martin’s taken the car and retired to the Corner Coffee Shop.
    NB. Martin. Increasingly he can be found at the Corner Coffee Shop. Deirdre says, he says she and Lord Dudley are disrupting his home life with their various projects all of which require complete freedom from any sound or movement Martin might need to make. Do not believe that Martin blames Lord Dudley - this is just Deirdre making out she has the majority vote in the house.
    In the Corner Coffee Shop, Martin’s set up an office space for himself in an alcove at the back. The staff are very good natured about this. In fact they seem pleased to have Martin monopolizing a four person table with his laptop, mobile, ashtray and half hourly intake of cappuccino and Danish pastry. It is almost as if he was Ernest Hemingway working on For Whom the Bell Tolls .
    A couple of times I’ve popped in with Miriam. I am determined not to treat Martin as if he is Ernest Hemingway so call out, ‘Hello there, Martin.’ He ignores me or looks about the room as if expecting some other chap to respond.
     
    Deirdre says when her new garden is well on its way to completion she’ll send the gardener over to discuss mine with me.
    ‘What’s the woman’s name?’ I asked.
    ‘I’ve no idea. I call her pet. ’
     
     
    March 16 th
    Not much going on in my life at the minute. Not sleeping very well and when I do sleep there seem to be noises at the back of my dreams. Apart from work I’m sticking close to home. Tilly is all the company I need. She’s getting very frail. Yesterday she didn’t make the jump between the table and the work top. Landed quite badly but got up and went to try again. I picked her up and set her back down next to her plate. There is nothing of her but skin and bone. It breaks my heart.
     
     
    March 17
     
    Laura rang this evening while I was eating.
    ‘But it’s only seven o’clock. In London nobody eats before eight, more like nine,’ she says.
    I reply that everybody in Bittlesea Bay is asleep by nine and they need a couple of hours first to watch the local news and weather forecast on television while their food digests.
    She says, ‘Okay, you eat - I’ll talk. First I’m no longer with Pam, I’m with