“He wrote the date at the top of the letter, in his bold black spirally handwriting that soared and sloped across the page. His handwriting alone showed me that he was artistic, unconventional, dangerous and fascinating … and he had written me a letter. Letters weren’t such a rarity then: I wrote to my mum from uni, and to my uni friends in the holidays. But I’d never had a letter from a boy before, and even if it isn’t exactly a love letter, that is why I kept it. I think I expected it to be th...e first of many, but there was only one. I read it now, and I can see what I didn’t see then. It’s a snare, a trap. A carefully constructed ruse to lure me in – to make me feel clever, and as if I must be something special to be so worthy of his attention. This wasn’t in the words he wrote – it was the letter itself that was supposed to show me he was wooing me. The words were almost inconsequential. It arrived at some point during the night. I slept on the ground floor, in what had once been a front room but was now an extra bedroom in our shared house.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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