Least Said (49 page)

No,
not
my
Gareth,
I
reminded
myself
hastily
and
with
a
shudder,
because
he
had
never
been
that.
There
was
one
reason
and
one
reason
only
for
his
importance
in
my
life.

I
tried
Facebook,
but
that
was
no
help
either,
because
I
had
no
surname
and
because
Gareths
on
there
were
ten-a-penny,
too.
Clutching
at
straws,
I
thought
it
a
shame
I
didn’t
still
have
any
of
the
contact
details
for
Mr
and
Mrs
Meat-and-two-veg
from
back
in
the
days
when
I’d
worked
for
Tina
and
her
home-cooked
meals
company,
because
it
was
at
their
wedding
reception
that
the
fatal
meeting
had
taken
place.
I
tried
and
failed
to
recall
the
real
names
of
either
the
bride
or
the
groom,
and
was
actually
on
the
verge
of
contacting
Tina
to
see
if
her
memory
was
better
than
mine.
I
thought
better
of
it
when
I
gave
some
thought
into
how
the
conversation
with
the
couple
might
go
if
I
did
find
a
way
to
contact
them.

‘Erm,
hello,
Mr
–
or
Mrs
-
Meat-and-two-veg
(correct
name
substituted
obviously).
I
don’t
know
if
you
remember
me
but
I
worked
for
Tina
Reynolds
providing
you
with
the
meals
the
two
of
you
used
to
pass
off
to
each
other
as
your
own
home-cooking
when
you
were
courting.
How
are
your
cooking
skills
these
days,
by
the
way?
We
were
guests
at
your
wedding
and
I
wondered
if
you
recalled
the
surname
of
the
very
tall
rugby
player
who
was
also
a
guest
at
your
wedding
reception
seven
years
ago?’

If
they
hadn’t
hung
up
on
me
by
that
point
I
would
have
been
very
surprised.
I
could
think
of
no
other
avenues
to
explore
and,
without
further
sightings
to
upset
the
status
quo,
I
became
caught
up
in
the
urgency
of
my
to-do
lists,
and
things
settled
down
once
again.

After
all,
I
reasoned,
when
a
spare
moment
gave
me
time
to
think
and
give
the
matter
the
full
attention
it
deserved,
if
he
was
interested
in
me
and
my
son,
then
surely
he
would
make
his
intentions
toward
us
–
if
he
had
any
–
clear
to
me
soon
enough.

Sadly,
my
monthly
cycle
continued
to
be
as
regular
as
proverbial
clockwork,
despite
our
continued
best
efforts
to
boost
Jon’s
sperm
count
and
increasingly
concentrated
activity
in
the
bedroom.
I
tried
not
to
let
my
frustration
show
and
agreed
when
Jon
reminded
me
the
information
had
said
any
improvement
would
take
around
three
months.
In
my
heart
I
was
already
accepting
that
Will
was
going
to
remain
an
only
child,
leaving
the
question
mark
over
his
paternity
firmly
and
worryingly
in
place.

Eventually,
my
initial
eagerness
for
love-making
began
to
dwindle
to
the
point
that
when
Jon
drew
me
into
his
arms
with
all
of
his
usual
enthusiasm,
it
was
all
I
could
do
not
to
turn
away.
Instead,
faked
orgasms
became
the
norm
for
me.
What
was
the
point
of
sex
without
the
possibility
of
procreation?
I
felt
so
sad,
so
empty,
and
such
a
failure
for
not
being
able
to
at
least
get
that
right,
and
prove
my
husband
was
man
enough
to
father
a
child.

Against
all
the
odds
I
eventually
delivered
William
to
the
school
gates
dressed
from
head
to
toe
in
his
new
school
uniform.
The
replacement
of
every
item
was
a
necessity
since
he
appeared
to
have
grown
several
inches
during
the
six
week
holidays.

‘Look,
he’s
taller
than
Tristan,’
Lucy
pointed
out,
when
we
were
bemoaning
the
horrendous
expense
of
providing
brand
new
everything,
from
outerwear,
to
underwear,
footwear
and
sportswear.
‘I’ve
also
got
Trixie
growing
out
of
everything
right
in
front
of
my
eyes
as
well,’
she
reminded
us,
pulling
a
face.
‘It’s
all
right
for
you
two
-
you’ve
each
only
got
the
one.’

‘Ah,
well,
that’s
where
you’re
wrong,’
Jade
said,
and
then
paused
for
dramatic
effect,
‘because
–
I’m
pregnant
!’

Of
course,
we
bounced
around,
yelling,
‘Oh,
my
God,’
over
and
over,
and
Lucy’s
enthusiasm,
at
least,
wasn’t
feigned.