72. Isn't It A Shame?

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Isn't it a pity, now, isn't it a shame?
How we break each other's hearts and cause each other pain

'What are you doing?' George asks, as he slides a glass of water for me onto the nightstand next to the bed.

This is all something of a novelty still. Nightstands and beds and furniture! We have furniture, finally, and we've been able to move out of the 'bedroom' downstairs and into the rooms upstairs; our own bedroom which overlooks the front of the house and grounds, and Bobbie's newly painted nursery next door.

'I'm catching my diary up,' I tell him, cradling my arm over page childishly, as if he might try and read it.

He laughs at me as he walks around the other side of the bed, sipping from a water glass of his own. 'I thought you might have given it up.' He sets the glass down on the stand on his side of the bed and pulls his t-shirt off over his head, letting it drop on the floor. 

'No, I just haven't had time to write it recently,' I reply, watching him remove his jeans in the same fashion.

That's the truth. It's the tenth of May today. How quickly time goes. This time last year, Minnie and I were busy trying to record an album, George was busy getting me pregnant, we were going away for weekends to Dorset and not very long after, I was running away to Whitby. I never could have pictured then that we'd be here, twelve months later, George and me with our own home and an almost four month old baby.

It's also a year since they killed Joey. I can't believe it's been that long already.

The weeks since we moved to Friar Park have flown by. The days have been packed.

We've been trying to get the house up to scratch, painting and polishing, and finding furniture to fill it. Bobbie has grown a lot since we moved here. She's nearly outgrown her moses basket now. She'll probably be sleeping in the cot in the next month or so. We developed a film of photos we took when we first brought her home from the hospital recently and she's so much bigger, it's amazing. She gurgles and squeals all the time and, just this week, she's started to roll over.

That's not all that impressive or astonishing to anyone except me and George, but it's hours of entertainment for us. I lay her on her front and more often than not she'll roll onto her back, then George and I applaud and cheer for her and Bobbie looks amazed and smiles at us. That's another thing - for the first time I get the feeling she's really looking at me, like she might know who I am now. She gazes at George with what I can only describe as adoration too, I'm sure of it.

We were doing that all day long until George pointed out we were treating her a bit like a puppy who's just learned a new trick and we stopped doing it so much, but I still try it when he's not around.

So, with dividing our time and attention between the house and the baby, the days have passed quickly - oh, and I suppose appearing in court on drugs charges took up a chunk of time too.

We've had to go to court twice. The first one was only a day before that dinner party. That could have been another reason I was so on edge. It was for arraignment. It only took a few minutes. They charged us, formally, with possession of cannabis and set the date for the proper trial, which was at the end of March. I couldn't help but think about Bobby all the way through. The magistrates court at Esher wasn't as grandiose as the Old Bailey, but still, being on that side of the dock was a very different experience.

We were advised to plead guilty, which neither of us was very happy about. George objected because he still insisted the drugs they found in the wardrobe were planted there (regardless of his own supply sitting, quite openly, in a box on the mantlepiece), and I objected because I have never so much as tried cannabis, let alone possessed any. But pleading guilty did mean it was over reasonably quickly.

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