Least Said (33 page)

I
waved
him
off,
trying
not
to
think
about
the
‘something’
that
might
have
worked
back
then
because
I
had
no
intention
at
all
of
going
down
that
route
again.
If
I
couldn’t
conceive
a
baby
that
was
definitely
Jon’s
–
despite
his
low
sperm
count
–
then
there
would
be
no
baby,
it
was
as
simple
as
that.

The
first
thing
I
learned
when
I
logged
onto
the
internet
was
that
sperm
production
takes
almost
three
months,
which
was
disappointing,
but
not
the
end
of
the
world.
I
reminded
myself
how
many
people
became
pregnant
just
when
they
were
least
expecting
it
and
determined
to
get
in
plenty
of
practice
while
looking
at
ways
to
increase
our
chances
and
putting
them
into
practice.

Poor
diet
seemed
to
be
top
of
the
list
when
it
came
to
the
cause
of
male
infertility.
Too
few
vitamins
and
the
toxins
in
processed
foods
wreak
havoc
on
a
man’s
sperm
cells
apparently.
I
was
careful
about
the
food
I
cooked
but,
I
realised,
we
did
give
into
William
far
too
often
when
it
came
to
fast
food,
so
that
was
one
thing
that
would
have
to
change.

I
printed
off
a
sheaf
of
pages
from
the
most
helpful
site
I
discovered
and
called
William
in
from
the
garden.
‘We’re
going
shopping,’
I
said.

‘Not
for
clothes,’
he
screwed
his
face
up
in
anticipated
disgust.

‘School
shoes,
maybe,
but
we
can
also
get
new
trainers
while
we’re
out.
Maybe
even
that
pair
you
were
so
desperate
for
the
other
day.’

His
face
brightened.
‘Really?
And
McDonalds
afterwards?’
The
suggestion
was
added
hopefully
and
I
didn’t
have
a
problem
with
that
occasionally
–
it
was
Jon
I
would
be
steering
well
clear
of
fast
food
restaurants
in
future.

‘Ok,’
I
conceded,
‘but
we
are
also
going
food
shopping,’
I
held
up
my
hand
as
the
protests
started,
‘and
we’re
going
to
buy
the
ingredients
to
make
our
own
chicken
nuggets
and
beef-burgers
and
you
,’
I
emphasised,
‘are
going
to
help
me
make
them.’

‘Wow.’

I
couldn’t
have
said
anything
that
would
have
pleased
him
more,
because
William
did
love
to
cook.
His
enthusiasm
made
me
realise
it
would
work
better
all
-
round
if
he
was
included
in
the
changes
we
were
about
to
make
to
our
lifestyle,
even
if
he
wasn’t
aware
of
the
reason
for
them.

We
might
have
spent
more
time
in
the
supermarket
than
was
usual,
but
it
was
time
well
spent
as
I
discussed
the
various
ingredients
we
were
buying
with
Will,
and
also
the
reasons
we
were
choosing
this
one
as
opposed
to
that
apparently
similar
one
over
there.

‘Well,
what’s
all
this
then?’ Jon
exclaimed
when
he
walked
in
on
a
scene
resembling
Celebrity
Masterchef
at
the
end
of
his
working
day.

‘We’re
making
proper
beef burgers,’
Will
told
him
importantly
from
his
position
standing
on
a
chair,
wrapped
in
one
of
my
large
white
aprons,
and
up
to
his
elbows
in
a
minced
beef
mixture.

‘He
has
washed
his
hands
thoroughly,’
I
mouthed
at
Jon,
and
added
a
little
louder,
‘we’re
on
a
healthy
eating
kick,
aren’t
we,
Will?’

‘Yes,’
he
agreed,
adding
sagely,
‘eating
food
that’s
full
of
vikamins
and
nucraments.’

‘Vitamins
and
nutrients?’
Jon
hazarded
a
guess,
looking
to
me
for
confirmation,
and
then
offering,
‘why
don’t
I
fire
up
the
barbeque
to
give
those
burgers
a
really
authentic
taste?’

‘Yes,
yes,
yes,’
Will
jumped
up
and
down
so
much
that
he
was
in
real
danger
of
toppling
from
the
chair.

‘Careful,’
I
made
a
lunge
and
grasped
his
arms
to
hold
him
steady.
‘If
you
carry
on
like
that
it
will
be
a
visit
to
the
hospital
instead
of
a
barbeque.
Now,
do
you
want
to
go
outside
with
Daddy
or
finish
making
the
burgers?’

I
could
tell
he
was
torn,
but
in
the
end
he
stayed
put
and,
with
my
help,
he
fashioned
the
mince
mixture
into
fairly
creditable
beef burgers,
though
they
varied
quite
considerably
in
both
size
and
shape.