Billy told Saumya he’d found a story from years ago. He’d dust it down and make it sing.
Billy was lying. The story was real enough. It was about a Jewish diamond merchant who told his only daughter he’d disinherit her if she married a gentile.
Saumya: “Is it a story about love, money, or maybe some kind of father-daughter thing?” Billy said it was all three. He was lying.
He’ll not write the story because it’s real, and those years in the dust changed it so much that to tell it that way now would be to lie (again).
I'm originally from Liverpool and worked as a national magazine journalist for more than 30 years before suffering a stroke at age 53. I started blogging as part of a neuro-rehabilitation programme and wrote the very first entries with one finger of my disabled left hand. Later, art became another therapy for me at Headway East London's Submit To Love Studios. I write about my daily activities and encounters. In 1988, I married Jane. We are still together today, sharing our lives and making each other laugh.
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