Free Women of a Dangerous Age by Fanny Blake Page A

that she had just made a huge mistake. She began to backtrack as fast as she could.
    â€˜Not that I mind if we don’t, of course. I can understand that you might not want any more.’ She stopped, not knowing what else she could say, at the same time feeling sadness engulf her as her dream foundered.
    â€˜But you’ve never mentioned anything about wanting children.’ He seemed perplexed. ‘That was never part of the deal.’
    â€˜Because they were never an option. But when you askedme to live with you, I couldn’t help thinking. I want more out of my life now than I’ve ever dared to admit to myself. You’ve presented me with a chance …’ She wanted to explain, to persuade, for him to take her in his arms and assure her everything would be all right. But that was not going to happen.
    He’d put down his drink and crossed his arms over his chest, wearing an expression that was new to her: distant, calculating.
    â€˜But of course, I was being stupid,’ she went on, desperate to rewind the whole conversation and start again. ‘It was a silly fantasy. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
    â€˜I would’ve thought I’d done my bit towards populating the world. I’d never imagined us …’ Words failed him as he tried to imagine. ‘And, well, aren’t you a bit …’ He paused, searching for a kinder way of putting it and failing. ‘… too old?’
    He had no idea how hearing him say that hurt. Fired up by his insensitivity, she retorted, ‘Women can have babies any time before the menopause. It just gets more difficult.’ To her fury, she felt her chin wobble, and her voice began to crack. ‘Just forget it. Please. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ She went to pour herself a glass of wine. She took a big gulp before turning to look at him. He had emptied his own glass and returned to stare out of the window. Something had happened to make this evening go way off track. He’d arrived in the wrong mood and she had only made it worse. Much worse. But why should she make it easy for him? A few weeks ago, he had been desperate for them to be together. What had changed? Perhaps she hadgone a bit too far, but she didn’t deserve to be knocked back so cruelly. She sat down again, and waited, dreading whatever he was building up to say.
    Eventually he turned, but his face was hidden as he concentrated on his right thumb, pushing at the cuticle of his left. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘So sorry.’
    â€˜So am I.’ A sigh of relief escaped her. They would sort out their differences and things would be all right after all. ‘I got far too carried away. Of course we can live here – to start with, anyway. Whatever you like.’ She plumped up the deep red cushion beside her and rested it against the back of the sofa, making a space for him, but he made no move to join her.
    Instead, he murmured, almost as if he was talking to himself, ‘It’s too late.’
    Nervousness churned in the pit of her stomach. ‘For what? We’ve got plenty of time.’
    He seemed to summon all his energy, lifting his shoulders and closing his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to tell you this today, but …’
    â€˜But what?’
    â€˜I’ve met someone else.’ His shoulders dropped with the evident relief at having got it off his chest.
    â€˜Someone else? I don’t understand.’ The shock took her breath away for a moment. ‘But I’ve only been away for two weeks. How can you have?’
    At least he had the grace to look shamefaced before he spoke again. ‘She’s someone at work who I’ve known for months. Then, at one of the Christmas parties …’
    â€˜At one of the Christmas parties,’ she repeated. ‘But thatcan only have been weeks, days after we agreed we were going to live together.’
    â€˜I know. But