We slept in this morning and she had to get ready in a hurry
No time for her usual attention to detail
And she ran out the door, slamming it behind her
Leaving her keys swinging and jangling
I stayed in bed until I heard the downstairs door shut
Then peeked through the blinds and as soon as she was out of sight
I went for the keys
She never tried to make a secret of the box or the fact it was locked or even where she kept it.
But as I said at the time:
"If you've nothing to hide, why hide it?"
It's one of those wee red cashbox things and she keeps it in a drawer by the bed
Under some pictures and books
Every key she has is on the same keyring
It took me a while to find the right one
I don't know, I suppose I've had my doubts for a while
There's been hushed phone-calls virtually every night
Her friends stop talking when I come in the room and they look at each other
And I don't know,
It's just a feeling
Anyway, I eventually found the right key and it fitted perfectly in.
I put the box on top of the bed and opened it up...
There were these pictures of friends and ex's, letters, postcards, doodles, nothing bad
And then I found some sort of sex diary
And I went to the latest entry
It explicity detailed a recent adventure up the park with a boy she said she had forgotten about.
And it got worse as it went on
The dates never made sense
There were people I had never even heard of.
Eventually I had to stop reading it
Because I started to feel sick
So I put everything back the way I found it
Shut the drawer and phoned you
See, I don't know what to do.
I keep having fantasies about leaving her dictaphone under the pillow or following her when she goes to work
I've been lying about where I'm going
Just in case I can bump into her.
