“Or there are practical ways to catch the culprit if it puts your mind at rest. Cameras aren’t too difficult or expensive nowadays. That’s one solution that springs to mind.”

“True. Or perhaps I deserve it. At school, I shared false information about another girl who got too friendly with Nina. I didn’t spread the rumors, I simply lit the fuse, so to speak, then watched as others were only too willing to fuel the flames of gossip. It worked. Now I’m on the receiving end of negative reactions and can fully appreciate what it feels like, it makes me feel even more remorseful. It’s payback.”

The fact that Christian doesn’t look too shocked makes me feel slightly better.

“Take good care of yourself,” he says at the end of our session.

It’s not until I’m back home with Stuart that Christian’s choice of words strike me as uncharacteristic. Rather than finding it comforting, it leaves a lingering sense of unease, which I’m unable to shake off all evening.

Seventeen

Reality is not my friend. Near-constant nausea kicks in, forcing me to break the news sooner than I’d have ideally liked. I test the waters with my dad first, popping in to surprise him at his local.

He doesn’t even try to hide his surprise.

“But aren’t you pleased?” I have to ask him more than once.

“Cautiously pleased,” he says. “I can’t pretend that I’m delighted with your choice of child’s father. He’s taken advantage of you because he’s lonely.”

“Dad, this is the modern world. I had a say in it, too. Stuart and I have always got on, and now we don’t have much choice but to make the best of things,” I say.

“I would’ve thought you’d have got on in the way that friends should with their friends’ partners,” he says. It doesn’t sit well with me. “I love you, and I’ll always support you, but I had such hopes for you. They certainly didn’t involve you being shackled to Nina for the rest of your days.”

“Don’t tell Mum yet,” I say to him. “Please.”

His reaction has tarnished the moment. I know she’ll be happy, but not if she is influenced by Dad’s negativity. She trusts his opinions.

He shakes his head.

“Promise?”

“Marie, love. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. All both of us wanted. I wish there was a way to make the right decisions for your child, to stop them making mistakes. You’ll learn that soon enough, but it will be too late for you.”

“Dad, please be happy for me.”

“I will be. I just need time to come round to the idea.”

His disappointment makes my chest ache. My mood shaken, I decide to tell my mother another day. I want to break it to her in the right way. I’ve waited this long, a while longer won’t (I don’t suppose) make much difference.

After several days, nausea becomes full-blown sickness. It’s not just in the mornings, it continues until late in the afternoon, leaving me wrung out. Yet I don’t have any choice but to cope.