‘Oh, I like questions,’ she’d replied.‘I never miss an episode ofMastermindand I’m a star when I watchUniversity Challenge.’
That had made him laugh and she loved to see it.She’d never thought of herself as funny.Sensible.Smart.Organised.Strong.Determined.Prim.Those were all the labels that people had given her over the years, and she hadn’t disagreed with those assessments.But funny?This was new and she had a hunch that it was because he was the first person she’d truly connected with.And listening to herself when she was with him, there were a few more adjectives to add to the list.Teasing.Provocative.And – oh the absolute shame – giggly.When, in the name of the holy embarrassment, had she ever, in her whole damn life, been giggly?
‘Congratulations,’ he’d teased her.‘University Challengeis a pretty impressive level of achievement.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ she’d quipped, before taking another decadent swig from the bottle.‘So ask me anything.Science.Maths.History.Fire away.’
‘What would you say if I told you I was falling in love with you?’
The shock had silenced her for at least a few seconds before she’d found her voice again.‘I’d say they’ve never asked that onUniversity Challenge.’A pause.And then – mortified – a giggle.‘And I’d say I liked that very much.Because perhaps I’m falling in love with you too.’It was mad.Crazy.Spontaneous.All the things she wasn’t.Yet, she knew it was absolutely true.
When the water was cold, when the Asti was done, when their skin was like prunes, when they’d both laughed until their cheeks hurt, they had gone back to bed and stayed there until nightfall, eating cheese and fruit off a breadboard when they could no longer ignore the hunger pangs.
That’s when she’d realised why the sex had been so wonderful.This wasn’t just a meaningless fling, it was a love affair.And now, just two weeks later, she’d crushed him by giving him news that she could see he was still struggling to comprehend.Eventually, the logical side of his brain was forced to assert its authority and spell out the reality.
‘You were already pregnant when we met.’His words were steeped in such sadness she couldn’t bear it.
‘I was.Although I didn’t know it, I swear.I only found out today.’A few weeks before, on the day she’d met him, she’d felt queasy, and put it down to too much champagne the previous night.But over the weeks since then, the nausea had continued to turn her stomach in the mornings, and had then been joined by tender breasts and uncharacteristic weariness, until it had all become impossible to ignore.This morning, she’d done the test alone in the same bathroom they’d drunk wine in on that giddy first day, and it had confirmed her fears.Two blue lines.It had broken her heart.And now she was breaking his.
If he’d got up and walked away, she would have completely understood, but he didn’t.Not yet.
‘Are you still seeing him?The father?’His question surprised her because she hadn’t even considered that he would think she was seeing two men at once.Until now, she hadn’t even had a serious relationship, and she’d slept with exactly three men in her whole life: her college boyfriend, the father of the baby and Ian.Hardly the kind of person who could juggle her men.
‘No.It was… just one night.A mistake.And obviously before we met.I thought we used a condom.I mean, we did use a condom, but I guess…’ Going into more detail wasn’t going to exactly cover her in glory, so she stopped.The truth was, she’d been a little too tipsy at a fundraiser for a national hospice organisation.There was a charity auction, then a sumptuous ball, that was attended by what seemed to be the entire medical community.Marge had wondered why they didn’t just save the cost of the lavish food and drinks and donate it straight to the charity instead, but she didn’t vocalise the thought.Instead, she’d decided to enjoy the glamour of it all.The white wine on the table had flowed and her glass always seemed to be filled to the top, even though she was taking sips all throughout the dinner.By the time the dancing started, she was merry.When it got to the end of the night, it had all been a bit of a blur, but someone she trusted implicitly had taken her home, said lovely things to her and before she knew it he was kissing her and… and… she let him.Maybe even encouraged him.Then he was pulling a condom from his pocket and they were having sex, on her sofa, with the wooden arms digging into her back.She couldn’t quite remember what happened next.She’d woken up the next morning, in an awful shroud of fear and loathing, mortified and sore and fully aware that she had been a willing participant, so it was all her fault.The terror and dread had stayed in her gut, consumed her, until the next time she saw him.She’d expected an uncomfortable exchange.Conversations about regret.Embarrassment.Perhaps even disdain.But to her shock and, yes, relief too, he had been perfectly polite and acted like nothing had happened, to the point where she almost doubted that it had.Unfortunately, this morning, she’d learned otherwise.
‘And how do you think he’s going to feel about this?’
Marge realised that in the emotional maelstrom of the last few hours, she hadn’t given the father’s feeling a second thought, too busy processing her own.What she did know was that he’d be appalled.Horrified.This kind of news would cause a scandal that could destroy his reputation, wreck his family and even damage his career.There was no world in which it would be welcome news.This poor baby.What chance did it have with a start like this?
‘I don’t know, but it’s… complicated.He’s… he’s…’ Marge couldn’t bear to say the word, but eventually she spat it out.‘Married.’
‘Oh, Marge.’
She put her hand up.‘I know.You don’t have to say a thing.It was a mistake.One night.Stupid.I’m so sorry, Ian.I truly, truly am.And I already hate myself so if you’re going to hate me too, then please leave and do that elsewhere because I’m already heartbroken that I’ve spoiled what I honestly feel could have been a wonderful future with you.’
Just as she’d asked, he got up and she closed her eyes, unable to watch him walk away from her.She heard his footsteps fade and waited, inhaled, exhaled, before she opened her eyes again.He was still there.He hadn’t left.He’d was standing at the end of the garden.Leaning against the oak tree that she sat under when she was reading on a sunny day.
He stayed there for five minutes.Maybe ten.And she didn’t move, too scared to break whatever train of thought was going through his mind.
A breeze had picked up by the time he walked back and stood in front of her again.She shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand, as she looked up at him.
‘Are you going to keep the baby?’
Marge had given this much thought but she hadn’t entirely made up her mind.It was all too new.Too shocking.But she went with her first instinct because it was the truthful one.‘I think so.’
‘Okay.’
He walked to the end of the garden again and stood there, staring at the tree as if waiting for inspiration.She’d already learned that he was a man of process.Logic.He liked to amass all relevant information on any subject.He thought things through and analysed them from every angle.Just as she’d never been giggly, he swore that he’d never been the type to act on impulse.He’d already admitted – as had she – that declaring their love for each other so swiftly had been the only spontaneous thing either of them had done in their time on this earth.He saw his need for lengthy deliberations as his biggest flaw, but Marge saw it as his biggest strength.
When he came walking back a few minutes later, she noticed the set of his jaw, the determination in his stride and another wave of nervousness swirled her stomach.It wouldn’t have been a surprise if he’d stomped right past her and out of the garden, out of the house, and out of her life.
But he stopped.‘Another question.’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you think you could… could you… Marge, would you marry me?’
She was shocked into silence once again.
