Chapter 8

I wouldn’t like you to think that getting down to breakfast was a rapid procedure, because it wasn’t. I was in no great hurry to let go of Wendy and she seemed in no hurry to let go of me. When our bladders forced us to get up we took a shower together for the first time. That was fun. Would you believe I’d never done that before? Well, you can believe it wasn’t long before it became a regular event.

Breakfast was healthy. Fortunately I quite like muesli (as long as it’s not from the health-food shop and I can have sugar with it) and I have no problem with bananas or juice. I was allowed a cup of real coffee.

Katryn rolled up as we were sitting at the kitchen table.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Hang on, and I’ll make some more,” I said.

“No,” Wendy contradicted, “I’ll make some more. Just enough for Kate. Besides, I make better coffee.”

Katryn laughed. “She’s got you pussy-whipped already!”

I had to smile. “I think I can live with that.”

Katryn turned serious. “I’ve got a proposal for you. The lease is up on my flat in a couple of months and I’m going to need somewhere to live. Brenda needs somewhere to live, too, and we got on pretty well last night. I want to buy your house, Wendy, unless you and Harry want to move to yours, and I’ll buy this one, which might make better sense practically because I need the workshop. Either way, Brenda is going to live with me for a time, and she might buy a share in the house. What do you think?”

Wendy and I looked at each other. “Shall we tell her?” I asked.

“Go for it.”

“This morning, I asked...” I looked at Wendy, who sighed, shrugged and nodded, “Gwendolen if she’d marry me.”

Katryn looked at Wendy, her eyebrows raised. “You let him call you Gwendolen?”

“Gwen, actually, but this morning, when he asked me to marry him, he got all formal. He was so lovely about what the name means, I’m thinking of using it more. But for now, I’m Wendy, except between him and me ... then, I’m Gwen.”

“Awww ... how sweet. How long are you going to make him wait?”

“You’re kidding, right? I wasn’t going to give him a chance to change his mind. I didn’t pause a second!”

Katryn looked a bit shocked. After a longish pause, “what does ‘Gwendolen’ mean.”

“Loosely translated,” I said, “it means ‘beautiful one’. Literally, it’s white, or fair headed or browed.”

“Wow.” Then, after an even longer pause, “what does Katryn mean?”

“As far as I can make out, it’s a variant of Catherine, which means pure.”

“Not really?” She laughed. “Me, pure?”

“Don’t put yourself down,” I said seriously. “You don’t have to be a virgin to be pure, morally. ‘To the pure, all things are pure, to the wry, all things are twisted’. That’s not quite a perfect quotation, and I’m not sure of where it’s from, but it’s like ... well, dirty minds see corruption everywhere. I expect there’s a few raised eyebrows about us two working together, and you using my workshop, but we both know the truth, don’t we?”

Our eyes met, and after a few moments, she nodded.

(As I write, I’ve got books around me, so I can tell you that the quote is from the Bible – Titus, chapter one, verse fifteen.)

“What do you think of my proposal, then?”

I looked at Wendy, then back to Katryn. “We’ll need to talk it over, but in principle I don’t have a problem. I want to hear Gwen’s,” I looked at Wendy, grinned and winked – she responded with a sort of resigned half-smile, “take on it. We’ll talk it over, and get back to you, okay?”

When Katryn had gone, Wendy said; “Harry, I’ve got a confession. I’m not protected. I’m not on the pill, or using an IUD, or anything. I’m sorry ... if I couldn’t have you, I at least wanted your baby. I’m sorry; I should have said something before.”

I thought about it. I felt a flash of anger, certainly, but it was just as much my responsibility to use some form of protection, and I hadn’t given it a thought. On the other hand, Wendy had actually deliberately set out to get pregnant...

“Okay... “ I said slowly. “I should have at least asked. But ... please don’t ... what? Deceive me, I suppose, again. I don’t mind you wanting my baby. I don’t mind being a father, in fact I’m getting quite excited about it. But ... you were using me, weren’t you?”

She met my eyes. “Put like that, yes. But, before, I liked you, respected you, fancied you. I wouldn’t have made any demands on you if I had got pregnant...”

“Would you have told me?”