I came out of the bathroom rubbing my hair on a towel and swathed in a wrap. The usual lovefest was going on in our bed. He was making up to his favourite girl again and she was lying there lapping it up, cooing for all she was worth. Steady on, there. I am joking. We haven't returned to some morally ambiguous surreal existence like our former life. I refer of course to my fella and his new bird. Terry and Maia. He was propped up on a nest of pillows, his knees up and the little sweetheart curled up in his lap. She was gurgling and holding a long conversation in her own fashion while he was telling her a very coarse version of Snow White which involved seven rather priapic dwarves, a nympho princess and an impotent prince who can't get it up... Some day my prince will come... Get it?

"Terry...you cannot go on talking to her like that! One of these days she will start talking and her first word will probably be 'Giant hard on' or something," I warned him.

"Well, I don't know the proper story, do I, so I have to make it up? You'll have to get me a fairy tale book," he lied plausibly. "Just take her a moment, will ya? I need to take a leak," he handed her over and jumped out of bed, striding over to the bathroom jauntily. He is so bloody gorgeous I do not know how I let him out of the house. I watched him through the open door take a position and spray while I placed her down on the pillow and tickled her softly before lifting her up and settling her- she rooted quickly for my nipple and was away.

She's five months old now and growing so fast I can hardly keep up with it. Terry reckons she's changed each day by the time he gets home from work.

He was dreading tomorrow evening. I knew he was, even though he had never said anything except "I'll be away for a while.  Job in Central America. Pretty routine but they need my expertise. Couple of new guys."

When Terry is brusque and business-like it always means one thing. He's burying something. His natural speech is loose and expansive. His public speech is not.

Just then, he slipped back into bed behind me. "She's something else, isn't she? Jesus, I could sit and play with her all day." He tickled her tummy and started her off - she let the nipple pop out and began chatting him up, ignoring the milk that was still squirting in her face. "You know I think she knows what she's saying. I reckon she knows but it's a language we haven't mastered, so the poor child has to learn English - and she is finally getting the hang of it..." he laughed.

I giggled. "You are nuts, you know? But I do think she knows more than we realize. She bloody knows you, that's for sure. When you're around she doesn't want to know about me. Look at her...she's ignoring me and making eyes at you, the brazen hussy. Go and sit over there or she'll never finish this feed."

He did as he was told, sitting on the leather armchair which was now strewn with baby clothes and toys where once it had been a designer piece in a stunning minimalist male bedroom. I watched him pick up a soft toy and play with it, dancing it up and down and making it talk. Of course, Maia stopped, pulled on the nipple, milk spurting all down her chin again as she stopped sucking and laughed at his antics.

"Don't! She's not concentrating!' I exclaimed. He put the toy down and grinned back.

"What should we do today?" he asked, rubbing his stubble and scratching his balls in his usual charming fashion. Maia hung her head back at the sound of his voice, chortling in response.

"Do not speak! She just loves your voice! You could read a shopping list and she wouldn't care. Be quiet and let her settle!" 

He stood up and went into the bathroom, taking a shower while I fed her. Then he started singing while he was shaving - she pricked up her ears but still sucked away, happy just to know he was near. I think it's so wonderful how she just knows. She just knows he's her Dad and she adores him. She seems to think I'm all right as well.

Then he walked back in, still naked, waving a toothbrush at me. "I've got it!"

"Yes, and I can see it and it's like a sausage factory from here," I grinned.

He gave me his look. "I mean, I know what we can do today. I want a bit of down time with my new girl and you're going to crowd us. We prefer one on one to a group scene, ya know? So I was thinking...why don't you go up town and spend some money and I can get close and personal with this little lady...take her to lunch...get in the bath with her...maybe we can even have an afternoon nap...?

I shook my head at him. "You've got it all worked out, haven't you? Thought we were on an economy drive. Thought I had to watch what I spent? Or are you just trying to get rid of me?"

Terry went back in, spat, rinsed and gargled. "The answer is: Yes, yes, and yes. But I have something for you..." he wandered in and opened the top drawer of his dresser, pulled out his skivs and also a bundle of something that he threw over. I looked at the object and my mouth fell open. It was a stack of bank notes in a sleeve.

"What the hell is this?" I asked him as he eased into his shorts.

"Yours.  A little present. Go and blow it on something frivolous..."

"Where did you get this? Why did you get this? You always use cards..."

Terry pulled on his jeans and did the usual tuck and fiddle about until all his bits were to his satisfaction. "Call it a little windfall. Off the books...I had a bit of good luck..."

"You've been putting money on horses?" I gasped. He wasn't really a gambling man although occasionally he does enjoy a day at the races.

Terry laughed and shrugged on a T shirt. "Not exactly. This was much sweeter. No risk involved, you might say."

I frowned. "I'm not with you...what do you mean?"

He sat down on the bed, tickling Maia's soles. "I came across some intelligence in a case I was working on. Just thought I'd call someone I know in the Ministry. See what it was worth..."

"WHAT? You sold information? You gave something up for a thousand pounds?"

He laughed. "For a helluva lot more than that, sweetheart. That's just your cut. For being a good girl..."

He knows I hate it when he talks to me like I'm some bimbo so I let that remark pass, refusing to rise to his bait as he was only doing it to wind me up.

"Terry...if you have access to important intelligence that is a matter of national security, you should simply give it up - not sell it! Say they had said no...What would you have done then? Taken it to someone else? The highest bidder - like a mercenary?"

He grinned. "I told them what I would do with it. I just said ... "Or do you want the cousins to see it first...?"

"Terry, you didn't! What did they say to that?" Even Maia stopped sucking and lay back, as if eager to listen to her Dad explain that one.

"They paid up. Come on, love, I wouldn't give it to the other side! The Americans - well...yeah... but not the real other side. But on the other hand I wouldn't give it to ours for free, either. Why should I? I've been cleaning up their crap most of my adult life- who says I can't get paid for being a good guy for a change? It's part of the nature of the job. They use us - we get on the inside in dangerous places and keep our noses to the ground for them. Saves them training and paying an agent when they can just keep us on their books. It's a transaction that everyone benefits from. I need the money. This one's for us..." He closed his mouth and gave me his stubborn look. No chance of shifting him on this.

"Still, it's borderline immoral, you know it is..."

"Not as dodgy as a trip through the portal to make a killing on Wall Street - but I don't remember you complaining about the fruits of that little jaunt," he gave me the eye. "Even George Soros would have baulked at that one, love."

I had to concede that. It had been highly immoral but we had never turned a hair at the time. I suppose because it wasn't as if any individuals had to suffer - there is always that frisson of pleasure about cheating the system or high finance, isn't there? But it is still insider trading and the money comes from someone's pocket. So yes...it had been a criminal act that we had all colluded in.

I winded Maia and then handed her back to her father.

"You go make yourself pretty and then go and blow that on yourself. Every penny. You deserve it," he smiled.

I preened. "I'm not so sure that I'm happy with wasting what is in fact tax payers' money..." I argued just for the sake of arguing. There wasn't much chance that I wouldn't take the money.

"Go and return it to the state. Stimulate the economy. It's your civic duty, Tink..." he smirked. Put like that, he had a point, so I gave in gracefully.

Terry took Maia downstairs and I spent rather longer than usual dolling myself up for the designer shops. I got that thrill of the chase that only comes from the thought of spending someone else's money and hunting down the very outfit that you have always wanted. OK, I have this incredibly shallow side, I admit - I'm fully aware of that, but it is one of my very few weaknesses. I am joking. Compared to the rest of me it could actually be my most appealing characteristic.

I dressed in jeans and an expensive white cotton blouse with my new leather jacket. Come to think of it - everything I have is new. I've had to start from scratch with my entire wardrobe; when I think of all the clothes that I left behind in Neverneverland, I could scream. What happened to them after I disappeared and then reappeared? Makes you wonder. And that house? Did it just disappear, as new Terry doesn't appear to live there or here - so where does he live? I often muse on that and it becomes like one of those night time thoughts that swirl round your head and you can't work it out. Eventually my brain hurts too much so I give up.

Wandering back down stairs, French pleating my hair, I found Terry and Maia chatting in the kitchen while he fed her the usual slop that she eats for breakfast. I'm sorry - but I am really not sentimental about these baby foods. They are dire. But she seems to like them and is growing normally and I am simply not the kind of mother who chops and purees all day long some tasteless health food concoctions for babies. I have tried. She spat it all out - and preferred the prepared food in the jar.

"Breakfast!" Terry muttered as I floated in. He pointed to the tea and toast and platter of sliced fruit. 

"Not hungry,' I muttered as I snatched up a segment of grapefruit.

"Eat!" he ordered. I grunted and sat down while he watched me have some toast and honey. He always makes me eat. 

"OK...will that do?" I said after a slice. He looked over at Maia.

"She eaten enough?"

Maia chuckled.  He turned back to me. "She says yes, so you can scoot. But first - come here..."

I danced over; he slipped a ten quid note in the back of my jeans. "For the tube. Because knowing you, you will blow everything you have and have no money left for the journey back."

I giggled and stuck my tongue out. He grabbed and kissed me. "You taste of that baby cereal..."I moaned and wrinkled my nose.

"It's quite nice, actually..." he muttered.

I pulled a funny face. Maia giggled and spat food over him. "You can lick it off me if you like..." he teased.

"I'd rather eat spunk...and that's saying something..." I retorted. Terry groaned at my crudeness. 

"Get...! And don't hurry back. We've got some serious loving to do today. First bath time..." he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. 

 I kissed him and then Maia, picked up my bag and skipped out. A whole day of freedom. A shit load of money in my purse. Retail heaven!

Why is it that when you have the dosh and the time, you can never find a bloody thing to buy? If I had had no money then I would have been knee deep in 'must-haves' but after a couple of hours of aimless wandering I found myself in a Café Nero with a ciabatta sandwich and a cappuccino and  wishing that I could go home. But that would have been like admitting defeat to Terry that I was so darn pathetic that I would rather spend a morning with the pair of them than spend lots of money and spoil myself.

Actually I had spent some money. I had been in a completely over-priced children's boutique called Cocoon and had spent hideous amounts of cash on little bits of things for Maia that she would not doubt have out grown by the time I got home. But they were so cute...

Another purchase had been a notebook which I had bought in a very swanky gift shop. It had a beautifully hand-tooled leather finish in soft creamy brown pigskin. As I simply never seem to be able to spend any decent lengths of time at the computer to write these days, it occurred to me that if I had a little notebook, I could jot the story down while it was still fresh in my mind and transfer it later in that far off future time when Maia amuses herself or goes to school or something.

And so there I spent the afternoon with a stack of fifty quid notes untouched  in my purse and a couple of cappuccinos and I wrote down the story of what had transpired since we had found ourselves back in London in the life that Terry had walked out on with few regrets  several years previously.

The Real Thing 2: Life in the Fast Lane

We flew out of Costa Rica and then went by way of LAX to London Heathrow.  It was pretty horrendous doing a flight of that length with two tiny babies and Terry in a virtual coma from two days without sleep after the week or two he had just had. He got us all first class seats and then slept for twenty hours. I was concerned he would get a thrombosis because he never moved for such a length of time. But finally, not long out of Heathrow, he woke with a grunt, staggered to the bathroom, shaved and freshened up, asked a friendly stewardess for food and then he seemed ready to talk.

"So how was that then?" he asked.

I just made a sort of whimper and he laughed wickedly. So did I. What else could we do?

I am not intending to describe blow by blow what happened over the next few weeks - it would mostly bore the pants of any sane reader but I'll give you the main gist of how it was. Don't blame me if you fall asleep. You were warned.

At first all four (or should I say six) of us ended up at Terry's place out at Docklands. I had the dubious privilege of having been there twice before so it was not exactly new to me but, of course, the reality of living in this temple to wealth, minimalism and never being at home was quite another matter from my two earlier brief visits.

First, however, I need to say a little about Lachlan and Heather. I think she will one day tell their story herself -I know little about the inside details - but I must at least mention something about those early days when we first arrived in London.

Terry brought them all home with us - where else could they go anyway? - and after a decent night's sleep, he and Lachlan disappeared into his study and they talked. A sum of money was decided upon and Lachlan reluctantly accepted it. He needed funds to start out even if it was hard for his pride to accept it. Terry said he could offer him a good job with prospects but he needed to get some bona fide flying qualifications first plus training in K and R. Until then, and to pay for his courses, Terry insisted Lachlan took a sufficient lump sum. Lachlan said he would pay him back one day. Terry said it wasn't necessary - but it was unlikely Lachlan would ever forget. You know how he is.

They found a place and moved out as soon as they could. I guess Terry and I didn't make too much effort those first few weeks to check on them - they, like us, seemed to want to be left alone. Maybe we should have checked. I don't know. But life wasn't exactly a bowl of cherries for us in those days and we simply became embroiled in trying to keep our own heads above water. Other people took a back seat for while.

Let me start at the beginning then. His apartment. You had to see it to believe it. It was like walking about in the showroom of a really expensive designer shop. Hard to believe anyone had ever even lived there. The kitchen appliances had mostly never been used. Terry muttered something about sending out his laundry and usually eating out; an occasional meal had been prepared by a girlfriend. There was just so little clutter, so few things acquired - unless they had a purpose. His office was meticulously kept with everything important filed away and detailed records of everything - which was a great help for Terry to piece together his life since returning from Tecala. But there was nothing really personal, apart from a few snaps of Henry as he had grown pinned up on a wall board. So the real story of those years was still a mystery to him.

I suppose his life had continued much as it had been before Alice, for all his attempts to try and move ahead. Work. Work. And more work. With the occasional fling in between - with the wrong woman, naturally. It might have been the ultimate residence for successful wealthy professional male, but it was a desolate home for any man to return to - and it made me feel so sad for him. I began to understand more and more the deep melancholy side of his nature so much more revealed in this context.

And into this cool, chic environment, we brought baby Maia. 

There were three bedrooms in the apartment - one was designated 'Henry's' for the occasional times he stayed over and the other was a guest room that honestly I don't think had ever been used. I bought a tin of nursery paint, daubed it all pale pink, stuck up some stenciled bunnies, gave the futon bed to charity and bought a pale oak wood cradle and matching furniture. The first few days were just a blur of ordering equipment and clothes for her; I soon became an expert on baby sites online.

I myself had no clothes of my own, apart from what I stood up in so I ordered a few pairs of jeans and sports clothes, slouching around in his shirts and jumpers like a bag lady for days.  Over the next few months I slowly added to my wardrobe as and when I needed items. I had no makeup apart from what was in my handbag. In the past that would have been regarded by the old Uma with the same degree of alarm as a security alert in central London. But I had changed - this was the new improved post-Dea me. I wasn't going anywhere - so what the fuck?

Slowly and surely, we built together the basics that we needed and, within a few weeks, the elegant bachelor pad had baby clothes drying all over the place, piles of laundry waiting to be washed, lying on the kitchen floor, baby equipment and clutter in every room - and it was complete chaos, I am happy to report. Furthermore, mostly Terry didn't get his knickers in a twist about it although there were a few evenings when he came home late and grumpy and threw a wobbler about the mess. But he generally was so glad to be back with us that he just rolled his eyes and put up with it. I was never very good at the domestic thing - so what did he expect? You can't have brains, beauty and fertility and still expect home cooked cuisine, ironed shirts and polished floors every night. What am I? A housewife?

The best moment was when his cleaning firm arrived one day to give it the regular once over. The woman in charge nearly died at the mess but fortunately had a good sense of humour and suggested that we should change the arrangement. She now comes twice a week instead of once a fortnight. Everyone is happy.

During those early days, Terry was in London and stayed close to home, but he was working very hard. He had to get himself up to speed - and quick- before the holes began to show. Leaving early, about seven a.m., he often worked late at night and frankly we didn't see much of each other. He missed Maia. But he had no choice.

The only day we went anywhere as a family in that time was when he insisted on booking appointments at hideously expensive private doctors - a gynaecologist and a paediatrician in Harley Street. I knew I was fine and so was she - but he said he would be negligent in the extreme if we didn't get a full check up. And I know he was right.

The upshot was Maia was passed A1 - even if she screamed all the way through it, which, I am sure is a sign that she was hale and hearty. The sight of her afterwards tucked up on Terry's shoulder, tears running down her cheeks, sobbing pitifully and staring suspiciously at the doctor was a joy. She is so mean when crossed. You gotta love that!

I was OK...a little anaemic, underweight and had a slight infection. My nipples were cracked and the doctor prescribed me something for that as well. But, all-in-all, I was fighting fit. Nothing to worry about.

 At the end of the examination as I was buttoning up and returning from behind the screen to join them, the doctor ( I should mention here that she was female -because you can imagine then how she took to Terry, especially as he was doing the devoted Daddy bit which always gets the girls going...)

"Take a seat, Mrs. Thorne..." Dr Cavendish smiled professionally at me, as if she hadn't just had her hands up my fanny.

"We're not married..." I have this thing about being called that name. It isn't mine.

She smiled. "My apologies. We need to finish with a few words about resuming your marital relations. It is usual to wait about six weeks from delivery to give things time to heal internally and settle back down to normal. So I think we need to wait about another two weeks if this infection responds to the penicillin..."

We both put on a game face. What can you do? Two more weeks? It had been three months already, for me, so I guess I had almost forgotten what it felt like anyway.  But poor Terry must have been going through hell. He never complains though. Although I did catch his slight glance over at me and a passing look of resignation settle on his face. Poor baby. But imagine when the famine is over, hey? Ooo la la!

"...And then there is the question of contraception. I take it you are still breastfeeding?"

I nodded.

"Well, it is a fairly safe method in the early days - but don't rely on it. These days with better health care and diet women often ovulate while fully feeding...in other words you need to think of precautions. The pill, patches and shots are not appropriate while lactating so I'm afraid your choice is limited...unless you're eager to extend your family immediately...?"

I paled. Terry frowned. "No...no plans for more...I am giving elevators a miss for a while..." he added, muttering.

"I beg your pardon...?" The doctor asked with a curious smile.

"Nothing...just a joke..." Terry added.

Neither of us pointed out that it was unlikely that he was firing live ones anyway or exactly what lengths we had gone to conceive this one precious little gift. Contraception was clearly not necessary for us - but she didn't need to know that. I noticed that Terry was rather quiet - and then he suddenly spoke up.

"What do I do if I want a fertility test?"

I refrained from saying 'wank into a cup' as being rather too crude for present company. Dr. Cavendish looked across at him puzzled.

"Why would you require that? Surely little Maia here rather proves you have no problems on that score..." She gave him one of those patronizing medical smiles.

He returned it with one of his tightlipped half smiles, his professional persona coming to the fore. "Nevertheless, Dr Cavendish, I would still like to take one. Who should I see?"

She shrugged. "I can arrange it here. Now, if you like. Unless you're uncomfortable in the circumstances? If you would prefer it to be more discreet, I can recommend an urologist...."

"No. Here's fine. Give me the cup..." He gave her one of his wide-eyed looks and she blushed slightly, looking down. Clearing her throat, she picked up a phone and called her nurse. They spoke briefly at the door, the nurse looking at him and cocking her head as if to say 'What - him?' but she stood back and asked him to follow her.

Terry stood up and then, as if an afterthought... "Uma? Reckon I might need your help, love..." 

Handing the baby to the stunned nurse, he continued. "...Could you just take her for a few minutes, love...? Won't take longer than that...Uma's a dab hand, ya see..." I nearly died. I could have murdered him. But he had that twinkle in his eye and he is just so irresistible in that mood.

Next thing I knew we were shown into this rather swish private room which was like a small lounge, elegantly furnished and intimate - well, this is Harley Street.  You get what you pay for. No cold white tiled specimen rooms and a few dirty mags with their pages stuck together like you'd find on the National Health. The only giveaway sign was the sink on the wall and the antiseptic hand wash coupled with the discreet lubricant standing next to it. Not to mention the stack of girly magazines on the coffee table and the TV with a rather interesting array of erotic DVDs. They think of everything here.

As soon as the door shut, I turned on him.

"What are we doing this for? Why do you want to give a sample?"

He laughed and proceeded to put down the small glass jar on the table and took off his jacket, loosening his tie. He wasn't wasting any time. "I got to thinking. How do we know if I'm live or not anymore? This is not there. This is not a portal. This is real life where, I assure you, I never had a problem in the impregnation department before. So... let's get to it, shall we....?" He chuckled to himself as he unzipped.

"Terry....you mean you think that you might be.... but even if you are - it won't prove whether or not I am..." I reasoned.

"Tink, there is nothing wrong with your fertility - in real life- you just had a baby. If I am fertile then it stands to reason  you are - so are Lachlan and Heather - and we need to know for sure as soon as possible. So I'll be the guinea pig. Good job, I'm horny, eh?" He shrugged and slipped his right hand in to pull himself out and do the job in hand.

"You think that from now on we really might have to take precautions...?" I was still struggling with the implications.

"Only one way to find out, love...Well, there is another but how much do you like Russian roulette as a means of reliable contraception? Now, how are we gonna do this? Should I flirt on one of those films or will you do the honours? I know which one I'd prefer..."

I stood and stared a moment and then I realised he was right. This was the best thing to do. Here. Now. Before we took any chances. So typical of Terry to be no nonsense about the whole thing and get it over with. Although I knew he hated this. He is a private man, for all his apparent confidence, and would not find anything appealing in having to masturbate in a room while a whole surgery of women outside knew what he was doing. That is why I was here. Not to do it for him (unless I wished) but to give him moral support. Hold his hand, so to speak.

But I could do better than that.

Smiling at him, I slipped my arms round his neck and kissed him, feeling his response in a sort of wave of relief. He kissed me deeply - as only he can- and then whispered in my ear: "I need you...I actually don't know if I can get it up here. This is not the most arousing moment I have ever had..."

I snaked one hand down, knocked his hand away and slipped it into the open fly. He was not lying; his cock was flaccid, soft and warm. He gave me a sort of embarrassed smirk. "Not for long, tiger..." I murmured as I pushed him back towards the soft cushions of an upholstered armchair.

It struck me then how bizarre life can be; all the many and varied moments that make up the whole story from A to Z. Here was another to add to the growing list of strange experiences in my life. I opened out his trousers and eased them away, pushing down his shorts to help him as he raised his hips obediently and lay back watching me, unashamed to expose himself like this before my gaze.

He is so beautiful to me and it is a joy to be able to love him in anyway he needs. But this was so different. He was doing this for us - putting himself in this acutely difficult position to enable us all to know for sure - not just for Maia and me but for Lachlan, Heather and Tristan too. He behaved as he always did - thinking ahead, taking the heat for others, making things smooth- even if he had to pay the price to do so. I don't think I ever felt more like giving him relief than in that moment; my only regret was that I had to let him spill into the impersonal glass jar when I wanted nothing more to drink him into my soul.

On my knees, my head buried in his lap, his fingers tangled in his hair, I kissed him softly and then took him in, feeling him harden in my mouth until he was almost too much for me to deal with and I had to use my hands on his base to take up the length. All the while, he spoke quietly to me in his deep voice, helping me - if help were needed!- by telling me what I meant to him. Private things that need never be written anywhere except on both our hearts. I found myself weeping quietly as I loved him until he could not speak anymore, his breath caught in his throat and his testicles contracted in his sac - and then I pulled away and he took over, wincing at the effort to control it had taken him. He sank to his knees and then jerked a few times as I kissed him and caressed his balls, and then he grunted deep, shuddered and his thick hot cream pulsed into the jar. I stroked back his hair, he felt hot. I kissed him softly and he whispered his gratitude into my ear as he rested down the precious cargo and re-arranged his clothes. We knelt there together for a moment, our foreheads touching, saying nothing, just breathing together.

Then he pulled me to my feet, washed his hands, threw cold water over his face and his fingers through his hair. "Let's get this show on the road then, hey?" With a smile he put his jacket back on, straightened his tie and opened the door, ushering me out. Back at the desk he nonchalantly handed over his sample with a cheeky raising of his eyebrows the direction of the nurse. I took Maia back into my arms and looked at my feet in embarrassment, wondering if everyone in the place already knew what we'd been up to.

"Your results will be through tomorrow after twelve, Mr. Thorne. We'll pop them in the post - but if you want to give us a bell we will let you have the reading over the phone..."

He settled the account. We left. In the street below, we both let out a sigh of relief and burst into helpless laughter. Maia looked at us both in surprise. "Never again..." was all Terry said as he helped us both into the car. I just grinned but realized that the truth was still out there.

What would the results show us?

The next day, he was out at the crack as usual and I busied myself with a million and one things I had to do to take my mind of things. About twelve thirty the phone rang. This was it...I breathed slowly to calm myself and picked up.

"Hey, Dad, you back?" 

Oh God...Henry. I played for time.

"Who is this, please?"

"Who are you? Is that Jemima?" The young man asked.

"Er...not Jemima," I answered evasively.

"Well, whoever you are....is my Dad there?"

"Your Dad....? I asked inanely.

Henry sighed. "Didn't he tell you then? Guess you're new. My Dad...Terry Thorne...your new boyfriend...is he around? My name's Henry by the way...everyone calls me Harry..."

"Harry...hello...I'm Uma...he's at work...you got his cell phone number?"

"Yeah...look I'm a bit pushed for time. I'll try later but if you catch him, tell him I'll be on the usual train...it's my weekend, you see....you know, my weekend with him..."

My mind did a double take. Today? Harry was coming today? "Er...what train...?"

"He knows..."

"In case he's not free...."

"Six fifteen. King's Cross. Look, I've gotta go....nice to talk to you, Jemima..." he hung up. Oh bugger.

He picked Harry up that evening; we had only had time to talk briefly on the phone but I could tell he was nervous. After all this was the son that he had believed he would never see again. Also he had to accept that this boy had seen him over the past four years. They had a relationship that had developed and grown, they had done things together, talked - and he knew nothing about that interim time. How could he ever explain that to Harry?

And then there was Maia and me. Where had I sprung from all of a sudden? I certainly didn't want a repetition of the ridiculous story that we had tried to throw at Dino on the spur of the moment. And then there was Lachlan and Heather, not to mention baby Tristan....at some point we would have to mention that Terry had a brother, cousin, whatever that Harry had never met before...

The front door opened; I could hear Terry's deep voice and the lighter voice of a younger man. I was upstairs and Maia had just dropped off to sleep. Checking my hair in the mirror, I smoothed it down and then ran lightly down the stairs. The two men were in the lounge; Terry was handing his son a can of beer.

"Ahh....Harry...this is Uma...I think you spoke on the phone...." I looked for the first time at the young man who was, in some respects, my step son. He was taller than I had imagined, not much shorter than his father, broad shouldered but lean and still leggy, his jeans hanging off his narrow hips. His blonde curls were unruly and he was handsome in a pretty fashion, without the rugged quality of his father's face but still with the light luminous eyes and shapely mouth. It wasn't hard to recognize them as father and son, despite the differences.

"Uma? Sorry...I think I called you Jemima before...she was last month, eh, Dad?" Harry grinned with a rather pathetic attempt at humour. Terry grimaced. I looked embarrassed.

"Uma is my partner, Harry. It's a long story..."

"Partner? What do you mean? Like business? She K and R too?"

Terry smiled. "I didn't mean professional partner, Harry. I meant life partner. Uma and I are a couple. Have been for a long time...Almost two years..."

Harry looked confused, glancing from one to the other. "Two years? But...I don't understand...how come we never met before...and what about...?"

"Jemima?" Terry answered. Harry nodded a little embarrassed. "Uma and I have had a....sort of....we parted for a while...but things have been sorted out...it's a bit personal, Harry."

"Oh," he replied sounding as if he had no idea what his father was talking about. "Does Mum know? That you have a, you know....partner...?" He asked tentatively. I could translate the meaning. 'Must I mention this or should I keep it a secret?"

"She doesn't know. But, she needs to. You see...there's more..." Terry admitted. He looked at me and I nodded. "Come upstairs, Harry...I want to show you something..."

Harry looked puzzled but put down the can of beer and followed us up the stairs. I whispered to Terry that she was sleeping. He looked relieved. At the door of the nursery he stopped. "This is a big surprise for you, Harry. Take your time...." He opened the door and Harry stepped in, staring about him as the truth dawned. "Your baby sister...Maia..."

I need to stop here. My eyes still fill up when I remember that moment. Harry just stood and stared at her without speaking for a long time. She was lying there fast asleep all curled up with her little hands by her head. We stood by and gave him time. Then he turned and looked at Terry. "My sister? I have a little sister? She's so pretty...What's her name... How old is she....? Can I tell Mum?"

He was completely enchanted by the notion. He didn't really ask where, how, why...he seemed to understand that it wasn't something that we were ready to explain in detail. But his look when he turned from Terry to me told me volumes about this boy and how much he was really like his father. His expression was one of happiness and pride and a sort of gladness for his father. This boy has been worrying about his Dad. And suddenly I think he realized he didn't have to worry any more.

It was a great weekend, crazy and chaotic, but we went about as a family of four and did all family things together. I have never had that sort of experience for so long. I wondered if Terry ever really had had it before even though he had been married. Just hanging out and going to the park and doing the shopping and having Sunday lunch down the pub and lying around watching football matches, laughing, chatting...

I think Harry likes me. I was pretty shocked about that. He likes Maia anyway and she took to him straight away. He told me I was the best thing that had ever happened to his Dad in all the time he had known him. I wasn't sure what to say to that. His parting words took me even more by surprise.

"Why don't you two get married? Ask him, Uma...he's hopeless...he'll never get round to it. Do it...make an honest man of him...it's about time....!" Harry grinned. "And I think Mum would like it. She always worries about him being alone..." My, you never quite know what is coming next, do you?

We took him out for dinner the other night to celebrate his examination success. He got these amazing 'A' level results and is going up to Cambridge in October to read Aerospace and Aero-thermal Engineering. Smart boy. Still wants to be a pilot. Reckon he already gets all the girls. Terry bought him a car. Penny went mad and said he was spoiling him, it was too high performance for an eighteen year old, he was a fool to pay such high insurance premiums...Terry told her to shut up. For once she did. He is so proud of his son. Makes me cry every time I think of the pair of them together. Imagine having lost him? I wonder now how he kept that in all those years in that other place. He just swallowed it down. Like he always does. How many other things has he simply accepted that he must have been hurting about all the time?

I seem to learn something new every day. Just when things seem tough, you get another wake up call. Reality check. We have what matters. All the things we really needed after all.

Ain't nothing like the real thing, baby. Times two.

I checked my watch and realized it was a decent time to get back to Romeo and Juliet. Gathering up my bags and shoving the new notebook deep within one of them, I ran for the tube. It was crowded, usual Saturday afternoon rush, and I had to stand up all the way. At my stop, I ran up the escalator and treated myself to a taxi for the short way home. I simply could not wait any longer to be with them.

Bursting through the door, I found Terry lying on the floor, propped up against the armchair watching the Rugby with his adoring fan club (aka Maia) snuggled on his lap, also rooting for his team. The surrounding area suggested that a rugby team had just marched through....remains of snacks, half consumed bottles of carefully expressed and now wasted breast milk, bottles of chamomile tea... nappies (used and unused) baby cleaning products, toys, cans of beer, soiled clothing, the newspapers, pillows, blankets....I grinned. Terry smiled.

"Get dolled up...Lachlan and Heather are coming over in half an hour to baby   sit...I'm taking you out. These younger women are fine but....I like a bigger girl myself, particularly for participation sport...."

I threw a cushion at him and then dived on the pair of them. 

I just love being us.

Oh. I never told you the results of the test, did I? Sorry, but I have to get ready... you'll just have to wait until next time. I've got a hot date, you see, and a lot of time to make up before his next trip....