Mary's Prayer by Martyn Waites

you, my darling. Now there’s only us.’
    He stood transfixed, staring, the rain sheeting between them. She continued.
    ‘I love you, Stephen. I’m going to save you. I’m going to make you live again.’
    And with that she gave him a lascivious grin, sighted him with the rifle and pulled the trigger.
    Larkin shot awake. He looked around, disorientated. The TV was showing static, the tape had finished hours ago, and the whisky
     bottle was empty. He realised where he was and looked at his watch: six-thirty. He was lying on the bed, fully clothed, feeling
     terrible. Kicking off his shoes, he scraped off his trousers and shirt and climbed into bed. Although he felt barely alive,
     he was disgusted to realise that the dream had given him an erection. He put the light off and tried to will himself back
     to sleep.
    He lay completely still, slipping between awareness and unconsciousness. He felt the sun rise weakly, the day begin. He was
     vaguely aware of the phone ringing once, twice. Whoever it was, he didn’t want to speak to them.
    Eventually he managed to drag himself to the bathroom where he shitted, pissed and puked. He felt better after that, relishing
     the feeling of complete emptiness. He was a blank slate, with the illusion of a chance to start again. Needing to occupy his
     mind, he rummaged around until he found Mary’s diary, got back into bed, wrapped the bedclothes around him and began to read.
    The diary was a cheap, page-a-day one: blue-ruled, spiral-bound. He flicked through it. The script – three or four months’
     worth, he reckoned – almost filled it. After a while Mary had ignored the printed dates, as if she hadn’t been able to include
     what she needed to say within the space allotted to a single day. This diary looked more like a confessional than a record
     of events. The handwriting was neat and concise, almost likeprinting. He started with the first entry, back in July. Mary, very precisely, told the reader who she was, how old she was
     and the fact that she was single after the departure of her husband Robert. She talked a little of her job as a legal secretary,
     saying she was happy with it. She mentioned the Rainbow Club, saying she didn’t think it was really her sort of thing. Then
     the admissions started:
    The main reason I stopped keeping a diary after I got married was because my life came to a standstill and there was nothing
     to write about. But that’s all changed now. I’ve got a new man! I met him two nights ago at a party given for the firm by
     Sir James Lascelles. The moment his eyes met mine he came over and we talked. He was very charming and witty and we got on
     very well. I am ashamed to admit that I was a little tipsy and started to flirt with him. Not like me! He seemed to be responding
     to me. Well, I was overwhelmed when that happened
.
    I spent the whole evening chatting to Terry and it was lovely. When it was time to go he asked for my phone number. I gave
     it to him and thought that was that, he was pulling my leg and I’d never see him again
.
    I thought I’d made a fool of myself but when I got home from work the next day the phone rang and it was Terry. He wanted
     to know if he could take me out to dinner! Well, what could I say? Of course I said ‘Yes’, and he took me to the Blue Sky
     Chinese Restaurant on Pilgrim Street. We had a lovely time. He was very kind and gentlemanly. He paid the bill, then took
     me home. As he dropped me off in the car I took my courage in my hands and leaned across and kissed him. I know it was forward
     of me, but I just meant to give him a peck. Really to show my gratitude. He responded by giving me the most passionate kiss
     I had ever had! I asked him in for coffee and although I was very nervous and I think he was too I asked him if he wanted
     to stay the night and he said he wanted to, but didn’t want to give me the wrong impression
.
    Larkin turned the page to the second entry.
    This morning I felt