Sarah had been his first wife and the first woman he had ever had any real affection for, maybe even, dare he admit, loved, for he was well aware that he could never love another the way he loved himself.
Before Sarah there had been girls, many of them. James was good looking, carried himself with confidence and had the reputation of being a bit of a bastard, all the attributes that certain girls seem to aspire to. They threw themselves at him, so he had no qualms of f*****g them and casting them aside, usually the morning after when they would give over their telephone number and plaintively ask with tilted head and milky eyes; ‘Give me a call then?’
He would take the paper, on which the number had been written, screw it into a ball in his fist and most often reply; ‘I very much doubt i
