I was not essential for that. The thing that made me special, to myself that Peter loved in me, was my darkness. And that was not a thing to be parade... before our children. With exhausted arms and tired legs, we packed up at the end of the day. We thanked our driver and gave him a tip, and took our belongings back to the marina. Jane and Thomas carried the large fish in a basket between them, and Peter and I staggered behind them with all the belongings that we had taken with us. It was. Martin to Montreal, on a charter flight crammedwith sunburned Canucks, was sheer penance. Stuck in a miserable coachseat between a snoring slob and a psychotic woman who talked my ear off,I endured a horrid meal featuring tough, tasteless chicken, a moldybread roll and an undrinkable split of wine, serenaded by a screaminginfant in the seat behind me. The worst part was having to climb overthe slob in my skirt to stand in line for the coach toilet...hoisting upmy skirt and tugging down my. More

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