I suppose we all have a secret known only to ourselves, except for whoever took part in it. It could be anything, something we are ashamed of, because at the time it made us ludicrous, or that we are afraid of, or some precious moment of love or tenderness, or happiness that existed only in the moment when it was. Or most disturbing of all, it could be something quite dreadful, which lurks in the back of the mind all of the time, something that we have tried to bury and refuse to remember...