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I was very frank with Grant, up to a point. I told him I had got pregnant to another man, and I could not live with him anymore. “I’m going with David to keep house for him.”
He didn’t really explode or anything like that, but made his feelings quite clear.
“You didn’t think I was going to have some other blokes little shit living here, did you. The sooner you go the better.”
David went ahead and found a place for us to live and I moved in with him. Just before Meg was born we discussed the future regarding children. I was over forty years of age, and it was hazardous for me to have any more pregnancies.
“You know I’d like to fill you up with babies,” David said, “but you’re more important now. What’s more, I don’t want you to have an operation to stop having children. I’ll have a vasectomy.”
“But David, suppose you want to marry someone younger, someone who could give you more children?”
“I’ll have a vasectomy.”
That seemed to close the matter.
It is now five years since we began to live together, and even if it is not possible for him to give me more babies, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t regularly do those things that in other circumstances would lead to their production.
Every day is “Freedom Day” now.
He’s a wonderful lover!
