Gazing at a woman’s face in extreme close up, I can see her eyes are bloodshot, her lips chapped, her cheeks flushed with rosacea. Her mouth hangs open in animal confusion as she feels the bruises on her shoulders and the seeping wound on her scalp.
I’m watching The Girl On The Train – the thriller of the moment – based on the Paula Hawkins novel that has sold millions.
I am supposed to be riveted, rapt. All I feel is overwhelmingly sad.
Because, as Hannah says, all that booze is just how she was and so on. We can’t call her a one trick pony, obviously, as there’s the two stories, the booze one and the I don’t want kids and I’m very happy about that one.
Still she’ll have billed somewhere in the £3,000 to £5,000 range for that piece (£2 a word and up at the Mail for a proper feature) which makes it worth telling the story again, no?