Everything was fine, and she had the rare, new sensation of being exactly where she wanted to be.

I'm not the consolation prize, Dex. I'm not something you resort to. I happen to think I'm worth more than that.

My 20s was a sea of worry. I worried about benefit forms, about being thrown out of my flat. I never went on holiday because I thought: 'What if an audition comes up?' I was a nervous wreck.

She made you decent, and in return you made her so happy

All his words and actions would now be fit for his daughter’s ears and eyes. Life would be lived as if under [her] constant scrutiny. He would never do anything that might cause her pain or anxiety or embarrassment and there would be nothing, absolutely nothing in his life to be ashamed of anymore.

She had reached a turning point. She no longer believed that a situation could be made better by writing a poem about it.

She glanced at the other diners, all of them going into their act, and thought is this what it all boils down to? Romantic love, is this all it is, a talent show?