SEPTEMBER  2003

It all began in the Temple, which, I suppose, is as good a place as any for it to have begun. I was lying in bed with John Nash late one morning, listening to the distant sounds of merriment from the pool outside. We had slept in really late after a quite exhausting night. John doesn't get out much but when he does he tends to be as competitive and obsessive in that as in everything else that he does. That being sex, of course.

He opened his mouth and went into one of his famous non-sequiturs. Boy, was this one about to change the face of the World!

"I have been looking into the relative time-space correlation of bodies suspended in a negative motion set against the molecular bombardment of dynamic hyper-realism. Of course it is allowed for theoretically in "Relativity", and Chambers at Princeton has made some interesting observations expanding this into a more challenging sub paper to the main Theory...are you listening, Uma?"

"Er...yeah..." I really did need to get my nails manicured.

"Then repeat what I said," Nash stated obtusely.

I sat up and plumped the pillows. "I said I was listening. I haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about, of course. So, no, I can't repeat it. But I distinctly heard you say 'I' and 'The' a few times."

He sighed in frustration. "Have you no understanding of linear dimensional principles in a shifting continuum, whatsoever?"

"Er...guess not. I'm still struggling with 'should I have breakfast, a shower and then get dressed or perhaps a shower, get dressed and lunch? It's a bit late for breakfast..."

John sat up and pulled me to him, taking my face in his hands and starting again. "I want you to listen carefully. I am trying to explain that I have been doing research on the portals, based on the reports of all those who have traveled through and also my own experiments..."

"You went back?"

"I did. I believe I have made a breakthrough in some elementary mathematical structures to explain its existence and future but, another notion occurred to me and I have been rather distracted by it of late.  I believe I have discovered something of great significance that I wish to share with you. Uma...you know how I feel about you? I want you to have this knowledge by way of a gift. Use it as you think fit...."

I was amazed. A Nobel laureate was dedicating his latest research to me? It was like Stephen naming that turtle 'testudo Aubreii', wasn't it? But I still didn't have the foggiest how this piece of knowledge could have significance for me.

"John - that is such an honour!" I gave him a smacking great kiss and then "But can you try and help me understand what this thing does? The portal thingy..."

He smiled and looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Are you familiar with a matrix?"

"The film?"

"No. A matrix, not The Matrix. Calculus? The X and Y?"

"Chromosomes?"

"Graphs! Plotting an equation. Are you even numerate?" He was getting a bit annoyed now. "I am trying to explain the concept of the entry of the portals to you. If you can imagine an X and Y graph. At only one point does both X and Y equal nought. That is equilibrium. It is notional; it does not exist except in theory. However, I believe that place exists within the portal. Equilibrium."

I thought about what he was saying. "You mean like AD/ BC? A.C.E./ B.C.E? You know- numbering years? If you draw a timeline, 0AD and 0 BC are there even though they don't actually exist and if they did they would run concurrently..."

"Good God...I think she's got it," he observed dryly. "Do you now see what this means for us all?"

Now he had me. "No." I answered truthfully with an embarrassed grin. He groaned.

"Uma, for a limited period in time, I believe about 85 seconds, those passing through the portal achieve equilibrium. They belong in neither dimension. Their time is coexisting. Do you now understand?"

"No." But an idea was shaping in my brain. "Are you trying to say that if, say Terry and I enter his portal together, then for 85 seconds we are part of the same mezzanine sort of dimension...like the departure lounge to time? Would that mean that he and I would share the same...you mean we'd both be fertile at the same time if we were there?" I am not sure where the fertility idea came from although I have a suspicion that subliminally it must have always lurked in my psyche, pushed down out of sight, but there all the same. "Are you telling me that you think it is possible for Brothers and Sisters to conceive children?"

Nash nodded.

"But why me? Why tell me? Have you told the others?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I know you. I read your diaries. I think it is what you both want. The next step. The natural conclusion to the way you feel about each other..."

I flung my arms around him. "Oh John! You are so sweet. You always amaze me! Just when I think you have completely lost it you say the most in tune thing imaginable! But it can never happen. It's against the rules and even if it were not, it wouldn't work. You would miscarry . The effect of the transition is too dangerous."

"Bullshit! For a start when have rules meant anything to you? And I don't think Terry Thorne will give a damn if this means a way to father a child on you. It is his secret longing. And ...the portal would not provoke miscarriage. If it had that power your internal organs would be mangled on arrival. A healthy pregnancy would survive anything, almost..."

So I sat on this piece of information for the first few days after we returned from the States. Frankly, I didn't have a clue what to do with it. It seemed impossible, a chance in a million, a rupture in the fabric of PW that would make my previous onslaughts seem like nothing in comparison. It could not work. It was hypothetical theory. It would be cruel to raise Terry's hopes for them to be dashed again.

But...how could I not tell him something so momentous? What did our commitment to each other mean if I did not share with him the slim chance that we might achieve our own immortality after all? It was on my mind for days until I got the courage to raise the issue.

One afternoon, not long after he had returned from a series of visits, his secretary rang and said Terry wanted to meet me in central London in a wine bar called "Chambre" just off Regent Street at seven; he had a meeting nearby, we could catch a drink and then dine somewhere nice. I wasn't phased by having to deal with his assistant- I could imagine him thinking of it at the last minute before going into a meeting and calling her in desperation because he couldn't raise me... as usual I had spent the day in the British Library with my phone off.

I showered and dressed carefully, wanting to look good for him.  Picking out a pale blue wool suit, sort of updated Chanel, very society lady, and wearing it with ankle boots in soft white leather just to add a touch of raunch, I made up and ruffled up my hair. Messy, glossed lips and his mind would be on other things before we had finished our first drink. I grinned to myself but it wasn't really what I had in mind. I had much more important matters in hand than that. Slipping a folded piece of paper into my handbag, I locked up and strolled to the tube station.

It was a cool evening, the hint of autumn on the air, and I wished I had worn an overcoat. I queued up with the other sombre faced passengers on the platform and wondered what they were all up to. As I sat down, I noticed the girl in the seat facing me, reading a magazine with an advert on the back for Master and Commander. I shook my head in wonder. Who would believe my life?

Regent Street was crowded with commuters on their way home pushing through the usual crowd of shoppers and tourists. I wandered along and checked my watch; it was fairly early so I ducked into Dickins and Jones for a while and as usual failed to buy anything. Why do I hate that store so much? Reminds me of shops when I was a kid and my Mum used to drag me unwillingly to town. How I have changed! I found myself on the level with children's clothes and toys on it; it's a floor that I normally ignore. Not today. I caught myself looking at nursery furniture and baby accessories, leafing through racks of the cutest little clothes and twirling brightly coloured mobiles. With a sudden start, I brought myself round and mentally berated myself. Who was I kidding? This was a shot in the dark and Terry would dismiss it out of hand. I just hope he wasn't too angry with me for bringing it up.

The wine bar was in a small alleyway at the back of the store, a stone's throw away from the once famous Carnaby Street. It was one of those new places that try to look like a modernized version of your front room, all comfortable leather armchairs and coffee tables, copies of newspapers and magazines scattered about. The wide windows to the street gave me a good view of the bar as I approached and I saw him straight away and paused to have a little drool. God, he is so beautiful!

He was perched on a high stool, still wearing his overcoat and his tie loosened a little. In his left hand was a bottle of some designer beer and he was holding a cigarette in his right, waving his hand about in that way he has, whilst talking to a barman. I saw him grin and drag on the cigarette; he must have had a hard day if he was smoking already.

Pushing though the heavy doors, leaving the brisk chill behind for the cosy warm glow of the bar, I walked over towards him. He always sits facing the door, a habit from years of being alone in dangerous places where he needed to be able to assess his position in seconds and get out if necessary. It means you can't steal up on him. The moment the door banged shut behind me, his eyes flickered in the direction of the noise and then lit up with that smile of his that dances in the blue-green pools. He stood up and I bounced over, hardly able to contain my excitement, knowing everyone must see what a soft touch I am for this man - and not caring.

"Hey- you!" I smiled and he pulled me close, touching my lips lightly, his hand brushing my cheek.

"Hey you, too," his husky tone hit home and my body loosened in his arms. "White wine?"

I nodded and he called over, ordered, took control while I just let him. Was there once a time that I would have objected to his lead? I can't remember now.

We removed to a quiet corner and settled with our drinks; he slung his overcoat on another chair, unbuttoned his jacket, sat down. I observed a group of women on another table nearby look, whisper amongst themselves and giggle. He was vaguely aware, smiled over but it barely reached him; he is so used to that kind of notice that it hardly registers. Terry is not a flirt. He is friendly and open but he never gives mixed messages. He was with me and needed no ego boosters from other women to make him feel good. Sometimes I think he finds that sort of attention irksome; he thinks it is shallow and meaningless. Too many women have seen him over the years as a body, not a person, and he has little interest in easy laying.

I listened while he talked a little of his day; he was buzzed, had won a good contract, big bucks and a relatively easy job, merely setting up security induction courses for large multinationals with expats all over the globe. T and O will run sessions for all the executives to attend before they leave for their postings, with advice tailored to their destinations on the political background, terrorism, security advice, information on body guards and local contacts to use, places to avoid and precautions to take. Simple stuff that earns mega bucks in comparison to the little input required- he had a group of young operatives who would take them through their paces and be liaisons in the country involved; Terry would merely show his face and shake a few hands here and there. His nursemaid days were over, or so he said.

So we were celebrating and he was in a great mood- tired but expansive. He said he wanted to take a break with me, maybe a long weekend somewhere in Europe- did I fancy Milan? Next week he had to fly to New York but maybe the weekend afterwards? I let him ramble, glad for the chance to listen to him feeling so good and looking for my own opportunity to broach the subject to him. We were onto our second round of drinks when he suddenly slowed down.

"So, what's burning a hole in your pocket?" He asked, eyeing me up.

"What do you mean?" I retorted.

"You want to tell me something. You can hardly sit still. Something's been on your mind recently...come on, let's hear it..."

Sometimes he drives me mad, I hate that he can read me like a book. I opened my purse and passed the folded piece of A4 across and hunched my shoulders.

"Read this. How's your Physics?" He looked at me, a little confused, and then picked up the paper. I watched him as his hands unfolded it. His movements are precise and crisp; his eyes lowered to the close printed page and I saw them scan the type, reading quickly as he does, with only a flicker of a frown to betray that the words were making an impact on him. His eyelashes brushed his upper cheeks as he perused and I was again caught, as I always am, by that contrast of boy in the face of a man. A glimpse of the child passed through my mind; would his child inherit those beautiful eyes and those sweeping lashes? I shook the silly notion from me but not before I had felt the knot in my womb. My empty womb.

"Well?" I asked as he finished reading and carefully folded up the paper to slip it into his pocket.

"Well, what?" he answered, emptying the last of his beer and reaching for his coat.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" I insisted as he stood up and motioned for me to leave.

"Time to eat. No, I'm not going to say anything, Tink. It's a pipedream. Forget it." That's all he said. Just like that. Instant dismissal. The commanding officer had made his decision. No discussion allowed.

"I need the loo." I ran into the ladies' and burst into tears, locked in one of the cubicles. I knew he was right; it was hopeless and unlikely in the extreme. Nash dealt in hypothetical theories not realities. It couldn't be done. But couldn't he even have considered it for one little moment? It was the way he was. Terry had made up his mind and pushed the matter away; he expected me to do the same. For his sake, I would too. Reapplying some makeup, I put on a brave face and returned to where he was standing by the door. As he held it open for me to exit, he said quietly, "You OK?"

I nodded. "Fine."

"Good...let's go eat."

He didn't raise the subject again.

I was watching from the window a few nights later as his car pulled into the drive. He got out, slammed the door and then turned away from the house. I followed his line of vision and saw him walk out onto the street, bend down and pick something up. As he straightened I could see it was a little child. Then I noticed Emma from across the road waddling over. She is about seven months' pregnant and Terry must have stopped Gregory, her little toddler as he dashed away from her. They stood talking for a while, Terry jiggling and smiling at the little boy and then carrying him back to his own home, holding Emma's hand while they crossed the street. It was a typical Terry action but it hurt me, I'm not sure why. He kissed the little boy, handed the child back to his mother and crossed back, deep in thought, his hands thrust in his pockets. I swear I could see sadness on his face.

"Boss's home, Mrs. Thorne," Gary informed me unnecessarily as I pulled in behind the Jag. It was before five. I supposed he was doing a spot check on the workers whom he seems to regard as put on this earth to fleece him. I know he would like to line them up, make them do a hundred pushups and give them their orders. I raised my eyes at Gary and ran inside, laughing.

Terry was indeed home, changed into some shapeless sweats but wearing a rather nifty black singlet - for which I will forgive him the pants. He was at the kitchen table with papers spread out and his laptop on, busily beavering away. I crept up and slipped my arms round his shoulders, nibbling his ear.

"Mmmm...let's go and be naughty...race you to the bedroom..." I murmured suggestively.

He grinned and extricated himself from my grasp. "Not now, love, cup of tea would be nice though..."

I punched him playfully, filled the kettle, brewed up and brought two mugs over. He motioned for me to sit down...

"Tink..."He scratched his head and began fidgeting, playing with his scar and rubbing his face. Something was up. "When I was in The States...I saw Nash. I've been doing some homework. What do you think about his portal notions?"

"What do I think? Does it matter? You said it was a pipedream so I let it go. Why bring it up now?" I began to leaf through the papers and realised they were connected to the theory.

"I've spent the past two weeks researching it. I know as much about it now as Nash. It's bloody incredible and it will probably fail. But there is a slim chance, really slim, that it could work. I need to know if you are prepared to take that chance. How much do you want this?" He put the offer down as if it was a mission he was contemplating. Perhaps in a way it was- the most important mission of his life.

"Are you asking me what would I do to have your child? The answer is simple.  I would do anything in the world - or in the portal. Don't you know that?"

He looked at me. "Don't get your hopes up. It will probably fail. This is a hypothesis at best and would need years of research to prove positively...I do not want you to get upset when it fails. You must understand that it is highly unlikely..."

"Are we going to do this thing, Terry, or not? I interrupted.

He smiled. "We are going to try..."

"Good, then stop rambling and tell me what we have to do. Can't be that difficult: enter portal, have an orgasm, get out. All in 85 secs. You are going to have to get a move on, Tez, no leisurely fucks for you, mate..."

"And we need to make sure you are at the right point in your cycle. So...I've bought this testing kit for you, get onto it...every day it takes your temperature and gives you a red light when you're entering the danger zone. We'll do that for a while until we see a pattern. When you due on next? We need to start a daily temperature log. Oh, and kick the fags and booze. You are going on a diet to put on some weight. I reckon you need at least 10lbs for optimum health..."

"Er...just a minute, buster...what about you? I want you in the peak of fitness. No cigarettes for you, a moderate alcohol consumption, lose a few pounds in weight...this is not just about me, you know."

"Don't worry... I already thought of that... I have my own regime here..."

I should have guessed that The Director of Covert Ops would treat this like the Normandy bloody Landings. Terry Thorne was on a mission and no avenue would be left uncovered. Total coverage. Mission control was my kitchen table and the theatre of operations was my womb. I called it "Operation Bullseye." Well, you have to have a code name, don't you?

There is something else I should have mentioned here. It goes back to a long time ago when we return from the States after Temple week. Heather had stowed away for the ride and we had asked them to stay at the apartment in Central London for a day or two. I wanted to spend some time with her and she with me; I imagine there was also the added attraction of two rather attractive men as well somewhere in the mix...

The four of us had a lot of fun. The first night we went out to dinner and talked and laughed... how different from Manila and the awkward falseness of our behaviour there! This time it was just mayhem. Lachlan and Terry were in such great moods and had us in fits of laughter most of the time- they are so funny when they get together. One day they took themselves off to Twickenham to watch some League game and Heather and I stayed at home. She was dying to talk, you could tell.

So talk we did.

"Uma, I have to tell someone or I shall burst! I never believed I could feel like this about anyone. I adore him...I can't keep my hands off him...he is the most beautiful man I have ever known..." I sat grinning and let her gush on about Lachlan. The girl was so crazy in love, I swear she thought they had invented it. When actually it was Terry and I. But I loved to hear her talk so - if there are two people in the world who deserve to have found each other, it is this pair. I cannot tell you how delighted I was for them.

"If only..." I suddenly realized she had moved on to something else and her mood had changed. Heather's face looked a little pinched and her eyes were suddenly moist.

"What's the matter? If only - what?" I asked, putting my arms around her shoulders.

And she began to cry. I couldn't imagine what the problem was, merely cuddling her and offering a tissue until she had composed herself.

"It's ...stupid, I know. I have him and he's more than I ever bargained for and then all the other guys...I'm being just being selfish but... if you saw his face! He wants it so much... he always has...he's that kind of man. I know he doesn't say much about it but he really wants it so much..."

I wondered what the hell she was going on about. It sounded like some strange sexual perversion- Lachlan? And Heather was the woman who had had Hando all round the house- there can't be much she hasn't done, can there?

"What does he want you to do, sweetie?" I asked.

Heather turned her lovely face to me and she said the three words that most resonated deep within me. "Have his baby."

I had to tell her. For all sorts of reasons she had the right to know, not least the fact that Terry and I owed them so much for what they had already done for us both. I know Terry had sworn me to secrecy, but somehow I knew he would see the point in this.

"Heather...I think there's something you should know..."

OCTOBER 2003

I doubt that the General Chiefs of Staff of Allied Command together ever put so much planning into the entire Western front as Terry Thorne, formerly Captain Thorne of CCB, SAS and the Australian army, put into Operation Bullseye. I still shake my head when I think of the weeks leading up to D-day. It's a wonder I didn't kill him, he drove me so completely stark raving mad.

First there was the constant monitoring of me. "What did you eat today? Did you smoke? Have you done any exercise? Did you test your secretions? (I usually lied about that one...there is a limit to my obsession) Have you taken your temperature? What is the exact reading?" And so on...

Then there were the test runs. He went through the portal three times alone...like that was going to do any good?...just to get the timing right so he knew exactly what floor the portal opened at. Do I have to remind you that to add insult to injury, our portal was in a panoramic lift with a great view of The City of London? Our child, should we achieve our goal, would be conceived against the glass wall of a speeding elevator. Nothing like a public statement of how you feel, is there?

Then we had to practice. Oh yes, you heard that right. We had to practice fucking. Like we needed the practice? But this was no ordinary copulation. We were working to military precision here. Our watches were synchronized. It was "Downtown 1...I have you in my sights... at my command, unleash hell... wait for the click...I have a job that you were born for..."

"Suck harder, for Chrissake...how'm I going to come with you licking it like a fucking lollipop?"

"You could be a little more romantic about this...I feel like I'm milking a cow..."

"OK...on your marks...set...go... 85 and counting..."

"Terry, must you count? It's putting me off..."

"Shut up and just do it..."

"Will that do...?"

"Yeah...Jesus...quick...why the fuck are you wearing knickers...?59..."

"Faster, Terry...can't you come any quicker?"

"That's really helping, Tink...try moving...it might just help if you don't lie there like a fish on a slab..."

"Charming...where's the famous technique...? Oh shit...that's the alarm, we missed it!"

I cannot tell you how hard it is to do 'it' when you have to. It is almost impossible to feel randy and it completely ruined our sex life for a few weeks. He wouldn't do it unless we were practicing so that he would be pretty desperate for it and come quicker on the day in question. I found the whole thing so un-arousing that I didn't come at all. When I complained, he said it didn't matter whether I came or not. As long as he did. In 85 seconds.

As the big day loomed I found myself getting more and more nervous and he was on edge, too. We were bickering over everything and a few nights he either stormed out or I went to bed and left him to it. This baby thing was beginning to tear us apart with the stress and tension. I even worried whether he was worried that he would find it difficult to get an erection when it came to it. That was the nightmare scenario. Stuck in an elevator with me trying to work on his limp dick. Could that happen to my Oscar -laden hero? Don't even let me think about it!

It wasn't aided by receiving a call from Heather who was ecstatic; she and Lachlan had found his portal and just gone along and done it...frequently. They were eagerly awaiting the results and he was brimming with confidence. Whereas we hadn't even got past rehearsals in the bedroom.

It was evening when we rode the lift up to the top floor. We had it all arranged. It was almost seven and few people were still working but, even so, the place was not deserted. Slipping into the ladies' toilet on that floor, I prepared myself. Knickers in handbag, spray of perfume, lip gloss, while he leaned back against the wall and watched me. I bent over the marble counter and hoisted my very short skirt up so that he had a good view of my naked buttocks; I could see him stroking his groin in the mirror.

He was wearing a navy blue suit and a dark grey overcoat, looking for all the world like the professional negotiator he is. But not for long. I looked at him and ripped open the front of my blouse; I was wearing a black lace push up bra that would have had Jack slavering. Terry looked surprised at the change in plans and suddenly lurched forward, opened his mouth to say something and then dragged me back into his arms, head buried in my neck and his hands mauling me, as I watched in the large mirror.

His left hand pawed at my breasts, his right cupped my naked sex while he made a deep groan. I think we had both forgotten what this was all about. We had overlooked that it was about making something of the love and passion we shared that would be a visible symbol to the world. It had begun with our overwhelming desire to make a commitment that would be out of the ordinary, and was going to end with the creation of a human life that was part of us both. As he spun me round in his arms to kiss me properly, I caught his face in my hands.

"We can do this, Terry. We CAN do this..."

"I love you. I love you," he muttered as he began to lose himself. 

"And I love you. More than I can ever say," I whispered back to him as I let him touch me and I led him to where he needed to be. He was hard and I slipped my hand into his pants to stimulate him further; he was ready and his irregular breathing told me how near.

"Come on...let's call the lift..." I dragged his hand and guided him to the elevator. It seemed to take an age but all the while he kissed me and held me close. He wasn't counting anymore, but I was. One of us had to keep their head clear.

Everything changed the moment we fell into the lift and pressed the button for the ground floor. I'm hardly a spiritual person, nor is he, but we both discussed later how something seemed to take over as we began our headlong journey into the unknown. Even before the familiar rushing sensation heralded that we were crossing over, I sensed a heightened awareness between each other. A serenity came over me, a sureness of vision that was sharply in contrast to his sweeping passion. Terry seemed insensible to anything but the will to have me. It was a fierce and tender moment as he lifted me from the ground and rested me back against the cool glass, burying his head against my neck, muttering insensibly.

I gently dropped his pants and helped him to enter me; then I hung on and let him free. And boy, was he something to behold. We must have been on the brink...I was feeling light headed as the portal drew in... and then there seemed to be a surge of energy that shot between us. He was as hard as I ever remember him being and each thrust was deep and powerful, ramming me against the glass as if I were nothing but a bundle of rags. Desire for him raged through me as I called on him to love me and then, at the moment of his orgasm, as I bucked and came myself, a charge of electric current seemed to radiate from him to me. I should have trusted that instinct. The sign was there from the outset. Something quite extraordinary had just taken place.

Terry slumped against me and let me slither down for a moment. I felt the trickle of his seed and gasped: "It's leaking out!" He yanked up his pants, zipped and buttoned and then swung me up, holding my legs a little higher than my hips and at that moment the doors parted and we were in the crowded entrance hall, it was day and we had done it.

Without a word, Terry carried me to the restroom, apologized to a woman reapplying her makeup and lay me down on the sofa there. He whispered, "Take your time," and left me there. I needed to compose myself, the nausea of the crossing still bothering me. The woman asked if I was all right; I nodded and said... "Just a little bit dizzy..."

The young woman fetched me a cup of water from the fountain and grinned. "Yeah, he makes my knees go weak as well... it's Mr. Thorne, isn't it? He used to work for our company..." I gulped down the water and said nothing. "He's just the sort to help a lady in distress. Wouldn't you like to take him home?"

Luckily, after assurances that I was fine, the woman left me alone. I hurriedly put my underwear back on and stuck a tissue in- if I could jam as much of it up there as possible then it was up to them. I hope his sperm could swim as well as he could.

Then I had this crazy idea. An image of my childhood flashed before my eyes as I lay staring at the cool granite wall of the ladies' room. At playtime (recess to you lot), I was one of those kids that always had to do something- run around or skip rope, play footie with the boys until they kicked me out, and so on, but my favourite thing was handstands against the brick wall of the school building. It appealed to me on two levels - firstly because I had so much physical energy to burn off and secondly because it meant that I could draw the boys' attention from their football.

With this image firmly set in my mind, I decided that this was a handstand moment. Making sure my knickers were firmly in place, I executed a handstand and rested my feet against the grey polished granite. My skirt fell away and flopped up and I let the blood rush to my head, all the while mentally shouting: "Swim, you little buggers, swim!" There was an image of all the little sperm frantically trying to outdo each other as they front-crawled up my fanny. Well, can you imagine how competitive Terry's spunk must be? They probably carry grenades to clear any obstacles out of the way. Go loud, sperm! I think I was suffering from a touch of post-coital/portal dementia. Or maybe I ought to stand up straight?

The door opened and I saw the legs of a woman enter as I hurriedly dropped back to my feet and smoothed down my skirt. I caught her amazed look. "I've just had sex. You know how it is," I smiled gaily, picked up my bag and dashed out.

I saw Terry pacing nervously across the large entrance hall dwarfed by the steel and glass erection of the central core of the building. Just then a man stopped before him. I froze. Jesus Christ! Ian fucking Havery! I crept up and hid behind one of the steel columns to listen to this potentially fascinating interchange.

"Terry! Terry Thorne! Long time no see! What are you up to these days?" Ian had his smarmy public school arse-wipe face on as he surveyed Terry. You could see his smirk; Terry was a little red in the face, tie loosened, hair rucked up...not quite his usual K and R man appearance. He also seemed to have a rather desperate wild-eyed look and his fidgeting was worse than ever. Terry was on a short fuse and I suspected I knew where this would end.

"Oh you. How are you, mate?" Terry addressed him with grunting dislike written all over his face.

"Fine. Terry, you look a bit rough. What brings you here? Looking for a job?" He asked with a sneer. "Charity cases not all they're cracked up to be? Did she dump you? And now you can't fund your lavish tastes on the dole? What a pity."

He turned as if to walk on and Terry moved. He grabbed his shoulder, spun him round and floored him with one mighty blow to the face, splattering his nose. I heard the crunch, saw the blood explode from the shattered nose and watched as Havery crumpled on to the marble floor.

"Did I ever tell you what a fucking pain in my arse you are, you greasy little bastard? Get up so I can do it again!" He toed Havery malevolently; I could see Security approaching.

"Terry...!" I dragged his hand and pulled him away as we ran down a corridor.  He lurched along, still breathing heavily, half dragging me, half supporting me, back to the elevator.

"You hit him!"

"Fucking wanker."

We started to laugh.

"Feel better now?" I snuggled up to him.

"Much. Should have done it years ago. Hey, did you hear the crack? Broke his fucking nose," he sniggered. Terry loves a good fight. "You look a bit red in the face, too. You OK?"

"I'm fine. Had a blood rush, that's all."

"Aftereffects of the portal?" Terry asked suddenly concerned.

I shook my head. "Aftereffects of a handstand." He turned and gaped at me.

"Handstand?"

"Well...yeah...had to give the little spermies a head start." I giggled.

"You are completely mental, ya know that? Not sure I want my child's mother to be as nutty as a fruit cake..."He grinned and put his arm closer round me, belying his words.

"Listen, mate, if you can find a woman to have sex with you in a speeding panoramic lift who isn't completely stark raving bonkers..." We laughed out loud as the elevator shot back to the top, back to night and the future- or was it?- and then we went down the service lift to the outside world.

It was only when he helped me into the car that we realized what we had done, Kneeling down before me, he placed his hands on my belly and looked at me.

"Whatever happens...Tink...we tried. You did that much for me. I'll never forget that alone as long as I live."

I said nothing, but my secret voice begged every God in creation to have pity on us. I know we have so much to be thankful for already but this was something else. It seemed our right and none of the rest quite made sense without it.

"You'll see, Terry...you can't fail when you set your mind to something. I know that. So do you." I gave him my best smile and prayed that my words might be true.

Patience has never been my strong point. At first we said nothing much about it and tried to get on with life but the next two weeks were dreadful. The date of my next period loomed and I examined my body for any slight twinge or sign that might suggest I was about to menstruate. Of course when you start to obsess like that, you can convince yourself of anything. I certainly worried myself into PMS, that's for sure, and almost bit Terry's head off if he so much as spoke out of turn. I could see him tiptoeing around me and his caution only made me more annoyed. That was just the mood I was in.

One Thursday evening, two days before my period was due, Heather rang me. I knew as soon as I heard her voice. She was half crying and half laughing, but I got her meaning... "Uma...Oh UMA!! It's positive! We did it! WE DID IT!!" I was overjoyed for them and heartened by their success but couldn't help but feel deflated. For all my happiness for Lachlan and Heather, I feared failure even more now. How would Terry feel if it hadn't worked for us? Would he see the success of a younger couple as a slur against his virility? I longed for knowledge- either good or bad news- the expectant hope was killing me.

After a long chat when she poured out her joy and Lachlan's ecstatic reaction, I placed down the receiver and gave into my emotions. Head down on the kitchen table, I just sobbed quietly. Moments later, Terry wandered in and dashed over to me, kneeling on the floor and gathering me in his arms.

"Hey, hey, hey...what's the matter, love?  What is it? You came on? It doesn't matter...it doesn't matter..."

"No..." I mumbled... "Too soon. Heather and Lachlan...they did it! It's confirmed ...she's pregnant."

"That's bloody fantastic. You know what this means? This means it's possible. Even if we didn't make it this time...we can try again...it's possible..." Terry saw the possibility of success...I saw the threat of failure. All I could say was "Again?" with a horrified expression, He laughed and cuddled me close.

When I had dried my tears and he had made a pot of tea, he picked up his cell phone and made a call. I had to laugh at the conversation; it was so typically male and yet so sweetly meant.

"Oi, Wordsworth...suppose you'll be angling for paternity leave now, will ya? Any fucking excuse to dodge..."

"Great news...really great...pleased for you...now you can zip up your pants and keep your mind on your real job..."

"Stop crowing. So you got lucky? Maybe it'll be triplets. Lucky, Lucky and Lucky."

"How's she doing it? I know...but they say it's a good sign. Everything in working order. What d'ya mean? So I read a few books? Maybe you should try it. Your one poem isn't going to be much help now, is it? You've done your bit, mate. Hope she feels a bit less crook soon...."

"Hey mate...I better go...we're both delighted for you. Give my love to Heather...when's she visiting me next?" A cackle of dirty laughter. I rolled my eyes and sighed at him. Then I heard his change of tone. "No, mate, no news yet. Waiting for nature to make its mind up. Be in touch. Sure...I know...fingers crossed, hey?" He closed the phone and gave me a shrug. I stood up and came to him. We embraced wordlessly.