chance of anything. At least let’s make an offer.’
‘OK.’
Dr Stenor returned and sat opposite them. ‘Well, it’s gone up. Around forty million. Perhaps the boxer shorts are helping.’
‘I’m …’ Tom gritted his teeth, ‘I’m still dunking them in cold water every day.’
‘That’s obviously helping too. It is possible for you to conceive with this sperm count. You only have one tube open, Mrs Witney, and it’s not brilliant, but there is a chance. If you want to try an implant again we’d be very happy to do it, though we’re booked until November. I’ll send a report through to your doctor,’ she went on. ‘I wish there was some magical solution I could offer. Good luck.’
They took the lift down, the smart, plush, carpeted lift. ‘It’s encouraging isn’t it?’ Charley said, trying to break the awkward silence between them.
‘Encouraging?’
‘At least your count’s gone up.’ She took his hand and squeezed it. ‘I feel fine about the house. I’m sure I’ll like it. Will you call the agent?’
‘Yes,’ he snapped, pulling his hand away and digging it into his jacket pocket, ‘I said I would.’
‘I’ll call him if you’d prefer.’
‘I said I would.’ He hunched up his shoulders and leaned against the wall of the lift like a sulking child. ‘I’m not so sure about it now.’
‘Why? Two minutes ago you couldn’t wait.’
He shrugged, ‘I have people come to me every day who’ve moved house because they thought it would save their marriages.’
‘What’s that meant to mean?’
He said nothing and she wished she had not asked the question, because she knew exactly what it meant.
Chapter Five
The engine roared gruffly as they accelerated. The black bonnet sloped upwards in front of her, its chromium radiator cap glinting coldly in the moonlight. The exhaust biffed twice as he changed gear, and the note of the engine became smoother.
The dull white lights of the instruments flickered and the thin needle of the speedometer jerkily moved past sixty … seventy … seventy-five. The thrills of the speed, of the night, tingled insider her. She felt indestructable as the car raced past sentinel hedgerows, the headlights unfurling a stark chiaroscuro world of light and shadow through the narrow windscreen.
It was like being in the cinema, except it was happening, she was part of it. She could feel the vibration of the car, the inky cold of the wind thrashing her hair around her face, could see the steely dots of the stars above, and smell the tang of wet grass that hung in the air, the perfume of the night.
She was afraid there would be a click, the ride would stop and she’d have to put another penny in the slot. She chewed the gum; the minty flavour had gone, but she still chewed … because he had offered it to her … because the girl in the film they had just seen had chewed gum … because …
‘Who is in the car with you?’
The voice was American, a long way away. It belonged to another time.
The note of the engine changed again, the road dipped then rose and her stomach rose with it. Trees, telegraph poles, road signs flashed past. He braked harshly, the wheels locking up, the car snaking, the tyres yowling as they came into a sharp left-hander. She gripped the grab handle on the door, then relaxed as he accelerated again and sank back deep into the seat. Her body and the car and the road and the night seemed fused into one; the pit of her stomach was throbbing and she could not stop the smile on her face. She turned away, embarrassed, not wanting him to see, wanting to keep her excitement private. His hand left the wheel and squeezed her thigh, and she felt the wetness deep inside her.
Tonight. It would be tonight.
His hand lifted away and there was a grating crunch as he changed gear, then the hand came back, bolder, began to slide her skirt up until she felt his cold fingers on her naked flesh above her stockings.
‘Oh,’ she breathed,
‘OK.’
Dr Stenor returned and sat opposite them. ‘Well, it’s gone up. Around forty million. Perhaps the boxer shorts are helping.’
‘I’m …’ Tom gritted his teeth, ‘I’m still dunking them in cold water every day.’
‘That’s obviously helping too. It is possible for you to conceive with this sperm count. You only have one tube open, Mrs Witney, and it’s not brilliant, but there is a chance. If you want to try an implant again we’d be very happy to do it, though we’re booked until November. I’ll send a report through to your doctor,’ she went on. ‘I wish there was some magical solution I could offer. Good luck.’
They took the lift down, the smart, plush, carpeted lift. ‘It’s encouraging isn’t it?’ Charley said, trying to break the awkward silence between them.
‘Encouraging?’
‘At least your count’s gone up.’ She took his hand and squeezed it. ‘I feel fine about the house. I’m sure I’ll like it. Will you call the agent?’
‘Yes,’ he snapped, pulling his hand away and digging it into his jacket pocket, ‘I said I would.’
‘I’ll call him if you’d prefer.’
‘I said I would.’ He hunched up his shoulders and leaned against the wall of the lift like a sulking child. ‘I’m not so sure about it now.’
‘Why? Two minutes ago you couldn’t wait.’
He shrugged, ‘I have people come to me every day who’ve moved house because they thought it would save their marriages.’
‘What’s that meant to mean?’
He said nothing and she wished she had not asked the question, because she knew exactly what it meant.
Chapter Five
The engine roared gruffly as they accelerated. The black bonnet sloped upwards in front of her, its chromium radiator cap glinting coldly in the moonlight. The exhaust biffed twice as he changed gear, and the note of the engine became smoother.
The dull white lights of the instruments flickered and the thin needle of the speedometer jerkily moved past sixty … seventy … seventy-five. The thrills of the speed, of the night, tingled insider her. She felt indestructable as the car raced past sentinel hedgerows, the headlights unfurling a stark chiaroscuro world of light and shadow through the narrow windscreen.
It was like being in the cinema, except it was happening, she was part of it. She could feel the vibration of the car, the inky cold of the wind thrashing her hair around her face, could see the steely dots of the stars above, and smell the tang of wet grass that hung in the air, the perfume of the night.
She was afraid there would be a click, the ride would stop and she’d have to put another penny in the slot. She chewed the gum; the minty flavour had gone, but she still chewed … because he had offered it to her … because the girl in the film they had just seen had chewed gum … because …
‘Who is in the car with you?’
The voice was American, a long way away. It belonged to another time.
The note of the engine changed again, the road dipped then rose and her stomach rose with it. Trees, telegraph poles, road signs flashed past. He braked harshly, the wheels locking up, the car snaking, the tyres yowling as they came into a sharp left-hander. She gripped the grab handle on the door, then relaxed as he accelerated again and sank back deep into the seat. Her body and the car and the road and the night seemed fused into one; the pit of her stomach was throbbing and she could not stop the smile on her face. She turned away, embarrassed, not wanting him to see, wanting to keep her excitement private. His hand left the wheel and squeezed her thigh, and she felt the wetness deep inside her.
Tonight. It would be tonight.
His hand lifted away and there was a grating crunch as he changed gear, then the hand came back, bolder, began to slide her skirt up until she felt his cold fingers on her naked flesh above her stockings.
‘Oh,’ she breathed,
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