Mai Griffin
spending a dull evening, at home, with her and the
television... there were friends close by, if she went into
labour, she had reminded him.
She had teased his horrified reaction – they had three
more boring weeks to wait before he really needed to
worry about her! She had even insisted he should stay in
town rather than drive home afterwards, so that she
could enjoy an early night… if she woke in the early
hours, she wouldn’t have to worry about his possible non-
appearance.
He stared at the telephone, remembering how sweet
his wife had been when he eventually spoke to her.
Knowing how much he had enjoyed the New Year
celebrations the previous year, when she had been the
designated driver, she’d been amazed that he was up
before midday! If only she’d been present to look after him
again! He had tried to tell her what had happened several
times during the following week; it wasn’t his fault; his
lapse into promiscuity hadn’t been intentional – but how
could he risk upsetting her in her condition? The words
had choked him, unsayable.
At the office, his secretary had adopted a conspiratorial
self-satisfied air that he was sure had not gone
unobserved by the gossipmongers! In private, she had
seemed to regard it as the beginning of a grand passion,
saying she had always known, from the way he looked at
her, that they were ‘destined to mean so much to each
other’! All those years ago he had thought naively that, if
he kept coolly aloof, Joyce would get the message, but she
had thought he was merely being discreet. Two weeks
later, to his great relief, she seemed more normal and he
felt safe reverting to his earlier, easy manner when, as a
raw eighteen-year-old, she was first assigned to him. His
previous secretary, starchy, in late middle age, had made
him feel like a wayward boy in need of a keeper! The
freshness of pretty little Joyce and her wide-eyed need for
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