Least Said (78 page)

‘Jon,
oh,
Jon,
where
are
you?’

He
sounded
faint
and
he
sounded
sad
as
he
said,
‘I
had
to
get
away,
to
give
myself
time
to
think.’

‘I
can
understand
that,’
I
began,
but
he
interrupted
me.

‘I’ve
come
to
a
decision,’
he
said,
and
his
tone
sounded
firmer,
as
if
he
was
resolved
in
what
he
was
about
to
say.

‘Oh,’
I
managed,
and
something
was
telling
me
that
I
wasn’t
going
to
like
whatever
it
was.

‘I’m
opting
out
of
this
marriage.’

I
knew
at
that
moment
exactly
what
it
felt
like
to
have
your
heart
broken
in
two
and
the
pain
was
truly
like
nothing
I
had
ever
known.
It
took
me
a
moment
or
two
to
take
in
the
rest
of
what
Jon
was
saying.

‘I’ve
decided,’
he
continued,
‘that
I’m
not
being
fair
to
you
,
because
it’s
becoming
increasingly
obvious
that
I
can
never
give
you
the
family
you
want
and
deserve,
though
I
thank
you
for
your
recent
kindness
and
patience
in
trying
to
convince
me
otherwise.
I
do
thank
you,
with
all
my
heart
for
the
gift
of
William
–
how
he
was
conceived
isn’t
important
and
it
really
never
was.
I
accepted
him
as
my
child
gladly
and,
with
your
permission,
I
will
continue
to
do
so
and
see
him
whenever
I
can.
I
will
love
him
as
my
son
until
the
day
I
die.’

‘But,
Jon,
Jon...’

He
was
gone
and
I
was
pleading
with
thin
air.
I
tried
ringing
him
back
again
and
again,
determined
to
tell
him
immediately
about
the
pregnancy
and
plead
with
him
to
come
home,
but
I
was
clicked
straight
through
to
voice
mail
each
time.
Feeling
it
wasn’t
the
sort
of
news
I
could
share
through
an
electronic
device,
I
just
left
a
plea.

‘Come
home,
Jon.
Please
come
home.
I
love
you
and
I
know
you
love
me
in
spite
of
what
I
did.
We
can
sort
this
out,
I
promise
you.’

I
worked
right
through
the
night
because
trying
to
sleep
just
wasn’t
an
option
for
me.
I
had
to
pin
all
of
my
hopes
on
Jon
returning
home
–
if
not
to
stay,
then
at
least
to
collect
his
things.
He
didn’t
appear
to
have
taken
as
much
as
a
toothbrush
with
him.

As
the
light
of
a
new
day
filtered
through
the
window,
and
I
put
the
finishing
touches
to
the
last
order,
I
finally
had
to
accept
that
Jon
wasn’t
coming
–
not
now
and
quite
possibly
not
ever.

Part
of
me
was
angry
with
him
for
deciding
that
he
knew
what
was
best
for
me,
but
then
I
brought
myself
up
short
by
reminding
myself
that
I
had
done
exactly
the
same
thing,
but
on
a
far
larger
scale.
For
hadn’t
I
decided,
all
those
years
ago,
that
it
was
best
for
him
not
to
know
that
I
had
been
unfaithful
to
him?
Then
I
had
blithely
continued
the
deceit
by
deciding
it
was
also
best
for
him
not
to
know
that
the
baby
I
was
expecting
might
not
be
his.

Had
I
been
totally
honest
with
him
right
from
the
start
none
of
this
would
have
happened.
First
of
all
I’d
have
known
immediately
whether
my
actions
had
put
my
marriage
under
threat
and, if
Jon
was
not
able
to
forgive
my
indiscretion
then
I’d
have
started
life
as
a
single
mother
with
a
baby
who
would
know
nothing
else.
That
would
surely
have
been
far
easier
than
depriving
a
six
year
old
boy
of
the
Daddy
he
had
lived
with
and
loved
all
of
his
life.

Had
I
been
honest
from
the
start,
the
reappearance
of
the
Adonis
would
not
have
caused
me
to
over-react
the
way
I
had
done.
Instead
I
had
freaked
out
and
blown
what
had
turned
out
to
be
merely
a
coincidental
meeting
out
of
all
proportion,
and
allowed
my
paranoia
to
guide
my
behaviour
into
becoming
more
and
more
bizarre
as
I
struggled
to
keep
a
secret
that
I
now
accepted
had
never
been
in
any
danger
of
exposure.