Least Said (16 page)

I
froze
in
his
arms.
It
was
all
I
could
do
not
to
wrench
myself
out
of
his
embrace,
out
of
the
bed
and
out
of
the
room
–
demanding
as
I
went,
at
the
top
of
my
voice,
whether
that
was
all
he
could
think
about
and
why
couldn’t
he
be
satisfied
with
the
child
we
already
had?
I
had
to
quite
forcibly
remind
myself
that,
in
truth,
Jon
rarely
mentioned
the
possibility
of
another
child
and
when
he
did
it
was
never
in
an
accusatory
way.
Instead,
I
forced
myself
to
giggle
as
if
the
idea
wasn’t
only
possible
but
amusing,
too.

Jon
fell
asleep
almost
immediately
and
I
lay
wide-eyed
beside
him,
staring
at
the
darkened
ceiling
and
prayed
that
the
idea
of
another
pregnancy
wasn’t
the
impossibility
that
I
knew
in
my
heart
it
was.

With
a
real
effort
I
had
managed
to
bury
the
sickening
memory
of
what
I
had
done
all
those
years
ago,
and
simply
got
on
with
enjoying
family
life.
However,
it
was
at
times
like
this
that
thoughts
of
that
long
ago
night
came
back
to
haunt
me.
I
didn’t
need
to
remind
myself
that
I
had
behaved
like
a
cheap
slut
and
that
far
from
worrying
about
the
consequences
of
having
a
night
of
unprotected
sex
with
a
complete
stranger
–
I
had
welcomed
the
thought
that
there
was
a
very
real
possibility
that
the
child
I
longed
for
would
be
the
result.
Shamefully,
I
gave
no
thought
to
the
fact
than
a
STD
was
also
a
real
possibility.

Had
Jon
actually
been
having
the
affair
I
suspected
him
of,
while
also
trying
to
place
the
blame on
me
for
the
fact
that
we
were
childless,
my
conscience
would
probably
have
remained
clear
–
and
that
was
despite
the
fact
I
was
possibly
carrying
another
man’s
baby.
However,
my
husband’s
affair
had
never
happened,
and
Jon
confessing
that
his
terror
that
I
would
leave
him
if
it
was
proved
that
he
was
infertile
had
pushed
him
to
try
and
shift
the
blame
onto
me
meant
I
had
long
since
forgiven
him.

My
face
and
body
burned
as
I
thought
back
to
the
way
I
had
thrown
myself
at
the
tall,
blond
rugby
player.
His
hands
had
been
all
over
me
as
we
danced
to
the
wedding
disco
and
we
both
were
very
well
aware
that
we’d
be
dancing
into
bed
with
one
another
before
the
night
was
over.

For
god’s
sake,
we
were
practically
doing
it
in
the
lift,
and
probably
would
have
been
if
his
room
had
been
a
couple
of
floors
higher.
Contraception
was
never
part
of
the
plan
as
far
as
I
was
concerned,
and
was
never
referred
to
by
my
partner
in
crime.
His
hands
were
up
my
dress,
his
lips
on
my
exposed
nipple
before
the
door
to
the
room
finally
opened
and
we
fell
inside.
We
were
on
the
bed
and
he
was
inside
me
while
we
were
still
fully
clothed
and
all
the
time,
as
I
enjoyed
his
very
experienced
attentions
I
was
laughing
inside
at
how
I
was
getting
my
own
back
on
Jon.

Only
I
hadn’t
been,
had
I?
There
had
been
no
affair
except
in
my
imagination
and,
all
this
time
later,
the
thought
of
my
duplicity
still
brought
tears
to
my
eyes
and
the
ever
present
guilt
ate
steadily
away
at
my
heart;
and
that
was
despite
the
fact
I
had
always
justified
my
actions
by
reminding
myself
that
without
that
one
night
we
might
not
have
had
Will,
surely
proving
that
the
means
justify
the
end?

I
woke
heavy
eyed
and
heavy
headed,
and
with
a
heart
heavy
with
remorse
when
I
felt
Jon
get
out
of
bed.

‘Another
bad
night?’
he
queried,
concern
evident
in
his
blue
eyes
and
on
his
lips.

I
shrugged
and
murmured,
‘Just
a
bad
dream.’

‘Well,
you
can’t
blame
the
cheese
this
time,
because
you
didn’t
eat
any
last
night.’

‘Everyone
has
the
odd
nightmare,’
I
pointed
out,
trying
not
to
sound
as
touchy
as
I
felt,
and
willing
him
to
stop
fussing.