Least Said (31 page)

In
my
heart
–
despite
all
of
Tina’s
assurances
to
the
contrary
-
I
had
somehow
known
that
the
one
night
of
lust
I
had
spent
so
much
time
regretting
and
determinedly
forgetting
was
going
to
come
back
to
haunt
me.
Now
it
had,
because
I
had
no
doubt
in
my
mind
at
all
that
this
–
this
person
was
here
to
demand
the
truth,
a
DNA
test,
and
proof
that
he
was
William’s
biological
father.

Slowly,
so
slowly,
I
struggled
to
my
feet,
shrugging
off
the
hand
I
felt
at
my
elbow.
Was
he
actually
trying
to
offer
assistance,
trying
to
be
kind
before
he
ripped
my
world
to
apart?

I
couldn’t
bring
myself
to
face
him,
I
just
said
again,
‘What
do
you
want?’
quite
certain
that
I
already
knew
the
answer.

‘You’re
obviously
very
upset,
is
there
anything
I
can
do?’

He
sounded
concerned,
kind
even,
but
it
was
all
an
act,
of
course.

‘You
can
get
out,
leave
me
alone,’
I
hissed.

‘Well,
if
that’s
how
you
feel,’
he
sounded
taken
aback,
maybe
even
a
little
shocked,
‘I
was
only
trying
to
be
helpful,
but
if
you’ll
just
take
these
I’ll
leave
you
in
peace.’

I
turned
round
then,
and
found
myself
looking
up
into
the
face
of
my
regular
postman,
an
extremely
tall
man
in
his
fifties,
and
then
down
at
the
letters
he
held
in
his
hand.

‘Oh,
my
God,’
I
said,
‘I
am
so
sorry.
I’ve
just
had
some
very
bad
news
and
I
thought
you
were
someone
else.’
I
reached
out
for
the
post
and
repeated
again,
‘I’m
so
,
so
sorry.’

He
turned
to
go,
and
then
hesitated
and
turned
back.
‘Are
you
sure
you’re
going
to
be
all
right?
You’re
obviously
distraught.
Is
there
anything
at
all
that
I
can
do?’

‘No,’
I
said,
feeling
the
tears
beginning
to
build
again.
‘Thank
you
so
much
for
your
concern,
but
there’s
nothing
you
can
do
–
there’s
nothing
anyone
can
do,’
and
ushering
him
out
I
closed
the
door
behind
him.

It
was
a
struggle
to
drag
myself
upstairs
to
shower,
casting
the
offending
trousers
into
the
laundry
bin
–
knowing
even
as
I
did
so
that
they
would
be
finding
their
way
into
the
rubbish,
because
if
I
never
set
my
eyes
on
them
again
it
would
be
too
soon.
There
was
no
relief
to
be
found
in
showering,
washing
away
the
faint
traces
of
the
baby
that
never
was.

I
stood
for
a
long
while,
letting
the
water
cascade
over
me,
crying
quietly
now.
I
had
been
foolish,
I
recognised
and
accepted
that,
to
allow
my
hopes
to
build
to
such
an
extent
that
I
truly
believed
a
child
was
on
the
way,
without
a
shred
of
real
evidence
to
support
such
an
assumption.
As
for
the
business
with
the
postman,
I
shuddered
and
felt
my
face
burn
with
embarrassment.
What
was
I
turning
into
–
some
sort
of
paranoid
woman
who
was
expecting
the
past
to
jump
out
at
her
at
every
turn?

With
a
supreme
effort
I
finally
pulled
myself
together
and
did
what
I
always
did
in
times
of
stress,
turning
to
work
in
an
effort
to
keep
my
hands
busy
and
my
mind
occupied.

‘There
you
are,’
Jon
said,
coming
into
my
work
kitchen
to
find
me
when
he
arrived
home.
‘I
wasn’t
expecting
your
car
to
be
in
the
drive
after
your
text
earlier
letting
me
know
that
you
and
Will
were
off
out
somewhere.’

‘Mmm,’
I
murmured,
without
looking
up
as
I
finished
off
a
particularly
fiddly
bit
of
piping
on
a
very
intricately
decorated
wedding
cake.
‘There
was
a
sudden
change
of
plan.’

Jon
waited
for
me
to
complete
the
task
and
then
he
took
the
icing
bag
from
my
hand,
and
looked
down
at
me.
‘What
happened?’
he
said,
obviously
taking
in
the
gloomy
tone
and
red-rimmed
eyes.

‘We
didn’t
make
a
baby
this
month,’
I
said
sadly,
and
burst
into
tears.
I
flapped
my
hands,
trying
to
forestall
what
I
knew
he
was
going
to
stay.
‘I
know,
I
know,
I’m
being
silly.’