wanting him to be kind. ‘I don’t know. I’ll be okay.’ I hope.
By the time Barney is in bed that night, I’m feeling so tense and ill that I’m actually dizzy with it. The fact that I’ve barely touched a morsel of food all day doesn’t help.
‘Are you still feeling rotten?’ Christian asks sympathetically.
This is it. This is it.
I nod, not meeting his eyes. Don’t be a coward, Meg. I drag them up to look at him.
‘Do you want me to make you some toast or something?’ he asks.
I shake my head slowly. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
‘What?’ he asks, his brow furrowing.
‘I . . .’ Again the words fail to come.
‘Come and sit down.’ He takes my hand and leads me to the sofa. His touch is warm and comforting. I gently detach myself and go to sit on the other sofa. He stares at me in bewilderment.
‘You won’t want to be near me in a minute,’ I manage to say. ‘You should sit down.’
He does, hesitantly. All of the happiness and contentment from earlier has gone. Now he looks worried and confused.
I glance down at my hands and then up at his face. I haven’t rehearsed this. Why haven’t I rehearsed this? I had enough time to do that. I don’t know where to start, what to say. How can I break such awful news to someone so inherently decent?
Christian speaks first. ‘It’s Johnny, isn’t it?’
His question takes me aback. It is, in a way.
‘You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?’ he says flatly.
‘No.’ I shake my head vehemently. ‘No! No, I’m not.’
‘Then what is it?’
Oh, God . . . Oh, God . . .
For a moment, I wish I had that magazine. I could have put it in front of him with a picture of Barney and that would have revealed the truth in an instant. But no, I should start at the beginning. I might not get a chance to explain otherwise.
‘I have to tell you something.’ I finally find my voice. ‘And I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.’
‘What is it? This is driving me mad.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again. ‘I’m so sorry about your mum and what you’ve already been through. I can’t believe what I’m about to say . . .’
‘Meg.’ His tone is firm.
I take a deep breath and then it comes to me, the way I’m going to tell it. ‘A bit under two years ago, Johnny came to the house and tried to persuade me to leave you and to choose him instead.’
Christian nods tensely, willing me to go on.
‘I refused,’ I tell him. ‘But . . . I’m so sorry.’
‘What?’ he practically shouts.
‘We slept together.’
‘Oh, fuck,’ he curses, dragging his hands through his hair and slumping back on the sofa. He glares at me.
I haven’t even started yet . . .
‘Did you fuck him at my parents’ place last week?’ he spits.
‘No!’ I exclaim. ‘Of course not! It was just the one time. It’s never happened since.’
Some of his anger dissipates, and I sense that he would have forgiven me for this as it was quite a long time ago. But he will never forgive me for what I’m about to say next.
My eyes well up. ‘I fell pregnant.’ I stare at him and he stares back at me, not comprehending, not yet. Tears start to trail down my cheeks.
‘What do you mean?’ He’s confused. ‘You had an abortion?’
I shake my head, very, very slowly, not taking my eyes from his. Then, suddenly, he gets it.
The look on his face . . . It will haunt me for the rest of my life.
‘Barney?’ he whispers. ‘Barney is his?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, no, no . . . NO!’ He starts to pull at his hair, scratch at his face. ‘NO!’
‘I’m sorry.’
He leaps to his feet and stalks towards the balcony window. I stay seated, giving him space.
‘No,’ he says again. ‘No.’ He turns on me. ‘When did you find out? Have you always known?’
‘No!’ Words flood out of my mouth as I try to explain. ‘I wasn’t sure. I wanted him to be yours. I hoped he would be born with dark hair, and when he was, I cried with
By the time Barney is in bed that night, I’m feeling so tense and ill that I’m actually dizzy with it. The fact that I’ve barely touched a morsel of food all day doesn’t help.
‘Are you still feeling rotten?’ Christian asks sympathetically.
This is it. This is it.
I nod, not meeting his eyes. Don’t be a coward, Meg. I drag them up to look at him.
‘Do you want me to make you some toast or something?’ he asks.
I shake my head slowly. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
‘What?’ he asks, his brow furrowing.
‘I . . .’ Again the words fail to come.
‘Come and sit down.’ He takes my hand and leads me to the sofa. His touch is warm and comforting. I gently detach myself and go to sit on the other sofa. He stares at me in bewilderment.
‘You won’t want to be near me in a minute,’ I manage to say. ‘You should sit down.’
He does, hesitantly. All of the happiness and contentment from earlier has gone. Now he looks worried and confused.
I glance down at my hands and then up at his face. I haven’t rehearsed this. Why haven’t I rehearsed this? I had enough time to do that. I don’t know where to start, what to say. How can I break such awful news to someone so inherently decent?
Christian speaks first. ‘It’s Johnny, isn’t it?’
His question takes me aback. It is, in a way.
‘You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?’ he says flatly.
‘No.’ I shake my head vehemently. ‘No! No, I’m not.’
‘Then what is it?’
Oh, God . . . Oh, God . . .
For a moment, I wish I had that magazine. I could have put it in front of him with a picture of Barney and that would have revealed the truth in an instant. But no, I should start at the beginning. I might not get a chance to explain otherwise.
‘I have to tell you something.’ I finally find my voice. ‘And I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.’
‘What is it? This is driving me mad.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again. ‘I’m so sorry about your mum and what you’ve already been through. I can’t believe what I’m about to say . . .’
‘Meg.’ His tone is firm.
I take a deep breath and then it comes to me, the way I’m going to tell it. ‘A bit under two years ago, Johnny came to the house and tried to persuade me to leave you and to choose him instead.’
Christian nods tensely, willing me to go on.
‘I refused,’ I tell him. ‘But . . . I’m so sorry.’
‘What?’ he practically shouts.
‘We slept together.’
‘Oh, fuck,’ he curses, dragging his hands through his hair and slumping back on the sofa. He glares at me.
I haven’t even started yet . . .
‘Did you fuck him at my parents’ place last week?’ he spits.
‘No!’ I exclaim. ‘Of course not! It was just the one time. It’s never happened since.’
Some of his anger dissipates, and I sense that he would have forgiven me for this as it was quite a long time ago. But he will never forgive me for what I’m about to say next.
My eyes well up. ‘I fell pregnant.’ I stare at him and he stares back at me, not comprehending, not yet. Tears start to trail down my cheeks.
‘What do you mean?’ He’s confused. ‘You had an abortion?’
I shake my head, very, very slowly, not taking my eyes from his. Then, suddenly, he gets it.
The look on his face . . . It will haunt me for the rest of my life.
‘Barney?’ he whispers. ‘Barney is his?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, no, no . . . NO!’ He starts to pull at his hair, scratch at his face. ‘NO!’
‘I’m sorry.’
He leaps to his feet and stalks towards the balcony window. I stay seated, giving him space.
‘No,’ he says again. ‘No.’ He turns on me. ‘When did you find out? Have you always known?’
‘No!’ Words flood out of my mouth as I try to explain. ‘I wasn’t sure. I wanted him to be yours. I hoped he would be born with dark hair, and when he was, I cried with
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