REPLICAS
Jane was always frightened that she might get pregnant. She used to perform an erotic dance routine featuring rubbers, pessaries, diaphragms and distraction techniques. I thought how much easier life was when everybody was just an accident.
For someone so keen not to have an accident, she seemed pretty keen on me having one. Turn left here, she would say at the last second before a corner, and grab the steering wheel to yank it round. We would skid into startled pedestrians, policemen, articulated lorries, and apologise profusely. After which, addresses suitably exchanged and court cases pending, we would fight; great blazing rows, preferably with guests in the house or strangers in shops as witnesses so that any violence would be carefully noted and the culprit properly identified.
“One day you’re going to wake up dead,” she would say if I so much as took a swing at her. “Go on! Go on! Just you dare!” she would add as I relented and unclenched my fist in the hope she would let her guard down and I could catch her one on the chin.
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