Dec 8th 2004. Kitchen. Terry's apartment.

It had been a long afternoon slaving over a hot cooking range. You know how I hate that particular form of torture but now and again the occasion presents itself when I bestir myself to acts of self-sacrifice. Terry's birthday was one of them. In fact, the last time that I had entertained in style was exactly a year to the day. Remember? When I lived in Neverneverland and could afford expensive caterers' and uniformed waiters to swan around my multi-million pound Des. Res. in St John's Wood?

This year I had set my sights a little less grandiosely. My kitchen helper, Heather, was my only support as we prepared the delightful repast waiting for Terry when he returned. Typically, he was away on business, and had called the day before to say he was taking a later flight than he had anticipated - so he was cutting this whole thing fine. But that is the story of our lives these days. He is one busy man.

The babies are so big now, six months' old already. I recall how last year, Terry and I used to dream about the following year, hardly daring to believe that it would be possible for us to have a child and here we were with Maia and unable now to imagine a time when she was not there. Maia is gorgeous - and I say that in full knowledge of my prejudice - but I do not care. She is pretty and blue eyed and has blonde curls and is just too perfect. She is also antsy and fussy and difficult and restless - and Daddy's girl. Sounds a bit like me, I know, but I never admit it to the boss who, naturally, spoils her rotten and she plays him like a pro. There's my girl!

Tristan is another child who looks too good to be true. He is already bigger than Maia, sturdy and handsome, no doubting him as a little boy, thick hair always mussed up and dirty as soon as you put him down. His temper is much more sociable than his cousin, though. He is fairly placid, as tough as nails, eats anything and smiles this wide grin that is Lachlan Curry to the life. I adore that little boy and often feel for him as much of a bond as I do for my own daughter.

So there we were, babies in the playpen while we tended to our culinary magic, whipped, blended, mixed, sautéed, baked, grilled, set out...this was going to be the perfect birthday dinner party to rival- perhaps even surpass - the one I had given Terry last year.

 A loud yelp drew our attention to the children and we turned to see Maia hitting Tristan repeatedly over the head with a plastic building block. Tristan was sitting rubbing at his forehead in a bemused fashion and clearly contemplating crying by the trembling of his lower lip. I reacted immediately and grabbed him, picking him out of the playpen and cuddling him, kissing his little head over and over and giving Maia the benefit of my tongue.

"You naughty girl! Stop that! You can just stay in on your own if you can't play nicely!"

Tristan must have realised that he was getting a lot out of this incident and might as well try and go for more because as soon as he saw his mother's face over my shoulder, he screwed up his own and began to wail. Works every time. Heather made all these sympathetic noises and took the poor little boy in her arms, sat down and in moments he was latched on and suckling away happily. What more could a boy want than a nipple when he's feeling a bit low? His chubby little hands grasped at her breast and he stared in her eyes with that unconditional love and trust that is so much a part of the bond of breastfeeding.

Maia, of course, threw a wobbler. Lay down on her tummy and screamed that he was released from captivity and she was still penned in.

"Tough...you dish it out, learn to take!" I shouted at her with a grin. She could cry herself out for awhile. I'm a very hard taskmaster at times.

Just then the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. Lachlan. He was in a good mood, bright and breezy, sweeping me up in his arms and plonking a kiss on me instead of trailing the usual plaster and building site dust through. He is on his final few weeks of an intensive flying course and had been chalking up the air miles or flying time or whatever it is they chalk up. So he was in fine fettle, back from a day spent in his beloved air. "What's all this noise about? Someone being murdered? Call the police!" he shouted as he ran into the room and swept Maia out of her pen. She might be Daddy's girl but Uncle Lachie features second on her all time list and she shamelessly made up to him, sobbing and looking at him from teary lashed eyes, her lip pursed in pathetic style. "You know, your Dad looks at me like that..." Lachlan observed with a snort.

He danced her over to where Heather was, kissed her loudly and gave Tristan's cheek a tickle. His son stopped feeding and raised his arms up to his father. Those two are just inseparable mates already.

"Come here..." I took Maia from him, she started fussing again; I kissed her and then popped her into the high chair much to her disgust. Handing her a few toys she picked each one up and threw it petulantly away from her before hanging over the edge and demanding their return. Sod that for a lark - I've played that game before. "Then sit there and twiddle your thumbs, sweetie...Mummy's busy..."

Heather and I returned to putting the finishing touches to the cake. "What's that?" Lachlan said as he cuddled his son and blew raspberries on his cheek much to Tristan's delight. "Looks like a giant turd..." he continued.

"WHAT???" We both replied in shock and stepped back to have another look at our work of art.

"It's a Rugby  ball Birthday cake, seeing as you two have spent the past fortnight crowing about being the uncrowned champions of the world or something..." I replied but now he came to mention it, it did rather look like something unmentionable.

Lachlan laughed and Heather swatted him. "Behave...we've been working on this all day...just keep your opinions to yourself - or we'll make you eat TWO slices of it." At that he pretended to be choking, falling over on the floor, Tristan still in his arms, and rolling about groaning. Tristan was chortling in delight and Maia was watching them, laughing at his antics. You can always rely on Lach to put on a floorshow for the little ones. Heather swears his mental age is even younger than Tristan's.

Thus occupied, we were free to lay the table and set everything up. No expense had been spared on the decorations and tableware, presents and birthday surprises. This was going to be the Daddy of all parties. The first one our new family had ever had.

"So when he's due in?" Lachlan called over.

"He said about three thirty but you know Heathrow. He better get here soon. This food is almost ready..."

Another ring of the bell and Henry bounded in. He kissed Heather and me briskly and then picked up his sister. Another man for her to love. He is, of course, number three on the all time list of Maia's favourite loves...which currently has me at four although I could be losing out to Flopsy Bunny...

"Henry...don't tell me you have come down already?" I gasped.

"Come down?" Heather asked. "Come again...?"

"Oxbridge has their own language. It means broken up for the holidays..." I explained.

"Holidays?" Lachlan laughed. "You only just bloody started, mate..."

He grinned. "Michaelmas term is two months - they all are...it's a bloody hard life...but someone's got to do it!" he added chuckling and bouncing Maia up and down. "I finished on Friday. Got really wellied - we drank all night. Saturday's a blur. Sunday I went home and Mum gave me a bollocking. I hadn't washed my clothes for weeks....didn't have the time... but don't worry, these are fresh on..." he sniffed at his T-shirt. He's absolutely lovely. Tall and skinny, broad shouldered but stringy, bit of a stubble here and there, curly blond messy locks and this totally posh Harrow accent that just makes me and Terry giggle. How did he get a son like him? He sounds like Prince William.

Wandering around, he began to pick at things as men always do, so I slapped his hands and told him to behave or I'd stick him in the playpen. He looked at the cake and said "What's that?"

"..If you say a turd, I'll slap you! It's a Rugby ball!" I laughed. 

Henry frowned. "Rub it in, why don't you, Uma? I was thinking of divorcing my Dad, last week. He called me FIVE times and just laughed and kept SMSing the score over and over again. Just wait- he'll get his next time we hammer those bloody Wallabies..."

We all laughed at that; the two men settled down with the babies on their laps in the TV room and I could hear them talking aviation. Henry is almost as obsessed with planes as Lachlan is. "OK...that's it...you and I should take this moment of comparative ease to go and get dressed..."

Heather and I slipped upstairs and dolled ourselves up as befitted the birthday dinner of the senior male or rather the pretend senior male of the family. The honours really went to Lachlan in that quarter but, of course, we were unable to actually acknowledge that. Which amused Lachlan no end, of course.

Back downstairs we sat and waited, watching the time. I was jumpy, as I always am when he is traveling or when I am excited to see him. It had only been a week but that was long enough for me to have missed him dreadfully, despite his regular calls and mails. And he hates it too.

Maia was getting antsy again and when Henry took too much notice of something Tristan was doing, she leaned over and scratched his face. She is such a little demon at times. Tristan cried this time and I grabbed her and carried her back to the playpen. "You can just stay there, you nasty girl!"

Well, it was WW3 then. She went completely nuts and screamed at the top of her voice; I stood there and refused to pick her up. The front door opened and in came Terry, right on cue. "What are they doing to my baby?" he announced.

I flew to him and he hitched me up; we had a noisy snog and Henry told him to stop turning his stomach. There was nothing worse than adults eating each other's faces. Maia screamed even more; she had heard THE VOICE and he hadn't immediately taken notice of her. That was simply not allowed in her book.

I hugged him close, crushed against the rough tweed of his winter overcoat and the fine wool of his suit. He smelled crisp and fresh, aftershave and soap, minty breath - he is such a stickler for being smart. His tie was slightly loosened and his hair a little awry as if he had been running his fingers through it, but other than that he was perfectly turned out as always. Sharp, smart and devilishly attractive, the urban sophisticate. Then he went and spoiled it.

Dropping me unceremoniously, he called out "Where's my girl?' and hared off into the kitchen where he picked the inconsolable naughty girl up and jiggled her up and down. She stopped crying and gave him her cheesiest grin, grabbing his nose and shouting; "Dadadadada!"

"K and R man chalks up another daring extraction. What you a hostage for this time?" he laughed as he kissed her and stroked back her wispy hair.

"She's been hitting Tristan again- first, she threw a block at him and she just scratched his face...!" I ratted her out.

Proud Daddy was, of course, unconcerned. He tweaked her chin. "Excellent. Just what Dad told you to do! Keep beating them off with a stick, your nails, a swift kick...just don't let the boys near you...apart from me, of course!" I groaned at his useless parenting. Terry carried her into the lounge and addressed Tristan. "Hey...Stan the Man...learn to catch....and duck...be a man...!" I threw a block at Terry. He caught it deftly and bowed.

Little Tristan laughed without having a clue what he was laughing about and then his Dad weighed in: "Just remember, Trist...when they say no, they mean yes and if they throw things, mate, you are in....next thing they throw is their virtue to the four winds..." God, they are awful. Will they still be talking like that when the children can understand them?

So Terry was home and everyone greeted him then - he was particularly  delighted to see Henry. Then he looked about him and groaned loudly. "Is it my birthday? Fuck it is, isn't it?" Unsurprisingly he had forgotten, despite his amazing memory for most things. But birthdays just seem incapable of being programmed into male brains, don't you think?

"Surprise! In the fine old tradition - and determined to outdo even last years' extravangaza..." I popped the champagne cork and filled the glasses. "Happy Birthday, Daddy!" I grinned and we all raised the flutes to give him a toast. Then came the presents. First he had to open Maia's - she is rather good at tearing so that was a breeze. Out fell a tie that had been designed for the occasion - Pooh Bear and balloons in the shape of hearts. It had Terry Thorne written all over it. He calls Maia, Winnie the Pooh when she fills her nappy as it is. He adored it and had to put it on right away, promising to wear it to the office in the morning. And he will, the nut.

Then I gave him my gift. This year I was watching the pennies so there was no splurging on expensive motor bikes or leathers. So I had gone for the amusing gift and had bought him a book: Australia versus England. A history of the Ashes. He said that was the story of our lives.

But Oz always wins in the end. 

I told him pride comes before a fall, sport.

Henry had somehow managed to get hold of goldmine tickets for the classic fixture of the season the following Sunday at Highbury, Arsenal v Chelsea. I am ashamed to say Terry is a Gunner and Henry naturally supports Chelsea being an upper class twit. Apparently the father of one of his mates at Cambridge is a board member and wangled the tickets. Terry was thrilled. I just snorted and said - "Hope they knock each other out and we will storm through at the last minute to take the title!" What a family. Soccer fans all but we support the three greatest rivals in English football between us. I intend to get Maia on my side, however, United have the best looking players...

Another bottle of champagne and we opened Lachlan and Heather's gift before settling down to dinner. And this is where we pulled the stops out. Terry was absolutely tickled pink by the table set out before him. We had balloons tied to every chair, big birthday banner on the wall, paper plates, plastic cutlery, a disposable Bunnykins Birthday tablecloth and the display therein: sandwiches (peanut butter or cheese), fairy cakes, sausages on sticks, chips, jellies - the complete children's party. We even wore silly hats. The two little ones sat in high chairs and played with their food while we acted like kids and washed it all down with Krug. We played pass the parcel. Tristan won the strawberry flavoured condoms and Henry the lube. Terry said I should be ashamed of myself.

Then came the moment we had all been waiting for. Heather and I lit the 41 candles set in the green field around the Rugby ball and we carried on the cake. Terry of course said, "That a giant turd?" And I almost hit him with it. But we laughed some more, he blew out the candles and made us all eat a piece before standing there with his silly hat on and giving us a speech in his usual off the cuff style.

"It's like this...I'm getting older and I don't give a shit. Never been as happy. Never had so much of what I needed. Reckon I was a late developer. So I have probably got to my early twenties emotionally now - Tink...that includes physically as well so expect to get a good seeing to tonight- and  am now in my prime. Here's to the next forty one, hey?"

What a night! Just full of craziness, babies, family and all of us looning around like kids at a party. Which we were. Terry put Maia to bed and never returned. We sent out a search party and found the pair of them asleep on our bed. Jet lag and champagne had caught up with the birthday boy. He didn't make good on his wild promise to give me the going over of twenty year old stud. And you know what? I didn't even care.

Later that night when Lachlan and Heather had taken a cab home and Henry was fast asleep in the spare room, I lay in the darkness and listened to him snore softly, deep in contented sleep in his own bed. For some reason I was wakeful, thoughts of the year before and then all that had passed to bring us here on my mind. So I decided to get up and continue with my diary to fill the wakeful hours until Maia woke for a feed.

 

 

THE REAL THING PART 3: 

There were a lot of settling in problems and the early weeks seemed to be dogged with one thing after another. Terry and I argued a lot, even more than usual. There were lots of things that triggered us off but I now know that the underlying cause lay in the two favourite topics that bedevil men and women: money and sex.

The sex one was simple. We weren't getting any. I wasn't quite passed fit so as June waned and July approached, we had still not got it on yet. That was a hell of a long time to go without a physical relationship - well over three months. In the early days, Terry had never even seemed to consider it, then he had never seemed to mention it, then he was really honourable about going without...but by this point he was just ornery and frustrated and the semen retention was no doubt souring his mood. Add to that he was under great pressure at work, worried about Lachlan and Heather and also anxious about money - it isn't surprising that he was grumpy, irascible and short-tempered.

Of course I had my problems, too. I was still very hormonal, fragile and weepy much of the time, mildly depressed I should imagine, lonely and cut off and still a rather nervous new mother. Maia has always been the fussiest of babies (although I suspect that is as much caused by my anxiety being transferred as anything else) and she gave me little rest. She was difficult to feed, a poor sleeper, colicky, restless...so by the time Terry came home, I was a wreck and even then the evenings were disturbed by her constant crying and broken sleep.

We just never seemed to get time to talk things through without either having her wailing in the background or being passed from hand to hand. It was as if her behaviour just wound up an already tight screw - and the result was that we would bicker and fight when we should have been curled up loving each other. It is not an uncommon story in the early days when a baby arrives but it still places an enormous strain on both of you.

In one way, Terry was great. You couldn't have a better Dad. He would spend all night carrying her as she fussed and cried and he was pretty good about having to wait until all hours for meals. There was the occasional blow up but he was realistic. He'd been a father before and he wasn't a kid; where a younger man might have been more aggressive, he was his usual calm and rational self.

We were both as frustrated as hell. I spent hours daydreaming about sex and I imagine he did a lot more than that but even when I knew it was fine to go ahead, the few abortive attempts we had were pretty dire. Maia was usually the factor although exhaustion and picking a fight in the middle of foreplay were also other reasons why we ended up sleeping back to back and in a temper.

But there were also other arguments which set us at odds. A typical example:

"I hate this place!" I barked at him one evening. "It is the worse possible place for a family. First it is so far from any shops or other families or playparks...Second, we are like the neighbours from outer space because we have a child in this upwardly mobile singles land. Thirdly it is a dangerous place for kids...what happens when she starts crawling and walking? It's like a death trap, split level, open staircases, objets d'art all over, too much glass, not enough colour, open plan, too small, no garden..."

"Have you quite finished?" he shouted back. "Get to the fucking point, will ya?"

"I think we should move."

"Oh you do, do you?"

"Yes I do, actually. Sell this place - we'll get a packet for it. This area is the top of the property market, vastly inflated, and then move to the suburbs to a proper house for the same price..."

"Got it all worked out, haven't you?' he answered with a sarcastic tone, eyeing me up in annoyance. I wasn't sure why.

"Look, Terry, am I missing something? Surely what I've said makes sense?"

He sighed and stood up, pouring a glass of scotch and lighting up. Here it comes, I thought. "It isn't quite as simple as that. Let's take it from the top. This place cuts down my commuting time. Which, of course, could be up to two hours each way a day if you got your little home in a suburban paradise. You want to see even less of me than now? Secondly, the market is stagnating and these high price places are not being snapped up anymore. It could take a while - or we sell quickly below market value and lose money. Thirdly, the sort of place you want is out of our price range unless we move to the north or the West - and that is out of the question career wise. Fourthly - I like my flat. Fifthly I can't fucking stand suburbia...you want to drive me demented? Cocktails with the neighbours and church bazaars? Fuck, Uma, can you see yourself in that world either? Must I go on?"

I let him rant and just listened. His reasons seemed logical enough but I was still surprised he didn't share my feeling that this was not a home for a child. "I appreciate that...but you liked St John's Wood..."

"That house set me back FIVE million pounds before we even began to calculate the renovations! Can you get it through your airhead that WE DON'T HAVE THAT KIND OF MONEY ANYMORE! GROW UP! GET INTO THE REAL FUCKING WORLD... " he bellowed, splashing more malt into his glass.

I winced. "Well, I realize that we couldn't expect the same lifestyle as before...but you still have  a good job...you earn incredible fees for what you do..."

"I run a business which is a very expensive one to outlay. My operatives are highly experienced and we pay them mega bucks..."

"...But you charge the clients!"

"The margins are not as great as you think. If I charge a client, how much mark up can I hike up the fee before he refuses to pay it and goes to another firm...this is a competitive business and we are the new boys. If our prices don't seem on the low side, why would they move from tried and tested companies like Luthan and Inherent and come to us...?"

"..Cos they want you and Dino..."

"...Who will probably not be handling the case...that was the point of starting our own shop...!" He ran his hands through his hair. "It's a bloody expensive set up and we have had to pour our investments into it. Think of equipment alone. We have to have the latest weaponry on hand in various safe installations around the globe - that is a phenomenal outlay, in keeping it up to date and secure alone. Sure if we use it we charge them over the odds but we have to pay for it up front and this is a fledgling company...then there is offices, refurbishment because we have to look the business, entertaining, travel..." He raised his hands and gave me that look of his.

"So...you telling me we're broke?" I asked him straight.

He laughed. "Of course not. I still have the Caymans' stash but...it isn't finite and the next few years we need to consolidate and rebuild. Once we make our names we will both be very wealthy men..."

"Dino seems to be that already..." I argued.

Terry winced. "Yeah well, he was always a hell of a lot more canny with money than I was. You know me. I lived the five star life style. Wanted something. Had it. I could always earn money - so what the fuck? Threw it away on women and the high rolling life style. Then there was Henry. You any idea what his school fees set me back every year...? Jesus Christ! Penny screwed every penny she could get out of me over the years...perfectly named, isn't she?" he commented ruefully.

I sighed. "Look, Terry, you have to tell me things like this. I didn't really understand. You can't shelter me from the truth like a little kid in one way and then expect me to be a support to you in another..."

"Yeah, I know...but...Tink, I want you to have it all. I want to be able to treat you like a queen. I hate to deny you anything..." I came and joined him on the couch and sat on his knee.

"I am not mercenary. Like you, if I have it, I'll spend it but...I'm not really bothered. I can go without. I just have to know the reality. Don't wait until I fuck up and then tell me..."

He ruffled up my hair and pulled me to him and I knew we had the right atmosphere for once. He was breathing real slow and his hands were moving even slower but I could feel the stirring in his groin against my leg. But, of course, Milady woke up and broke up that little moment. We both groaned, I ran up to attend to her and he turned back with a sigh to his paper work.

I thought he was working on reports. But I was wrong It was, as a matter of fact, our finances, which explains why he reacted so fiercely to my suggestions to buy a bigger house. Half an hour later, I had settled her and came back downstairs ready to resume our little erotic moment.

Terry had other ideas. "She off?" he asked absently.

"Yeah....now where were we...?" I whispered as I ran my hands around his neck and pulled his head round to kiss me.

"Wait up!" he said rather tersely. "I want to ask you about something....this credit card receipt for six hundred over pounds...please tell me that you bought ten pairs of shoes that day? This cannot be for one individual pair, can it?" He waved the item before me.

"Ah," I muttered. "They were irresistible. A fantastic bargain..."

"Bargain? Jesus Christ! And this! You spent nearly two hundred quid on baby clothes for a two month old baby? How long is she able to wear them? What is the matter with you?"

I blushed and sat down at the other side of the table. "I didn't know how things were! I just behaved like I used to..."

"Christ, Uma! You had to be able to work out things had changed. I've been telling you often enough. I was a multimillionaire before. We lived in an unreal world where money was no object. But from the word go this place has been different. Can you please start to grow up and contribute to this family instead of simply frittering away everything I earn on fucking rubbish?"

That hurt. I had arrived with only the clothes I stood up in and I know we had had to spend a lot to get started but mostly I had bought from High street shops and chains. But now and again...I mean, we moved in pretty grand circles and I had to have some things decent enough for entertaining and such. Not that we'd been anywhere really since we got back. Maia seemed to put the lid on my presence at junkets and Terry generally went alone these days. I suppose I could have got a sitter but he wasn't keen on leaving her with someone he didn't know. I'd mentioned nanny and he had just stared at me with his Queen Victoria look of disapproval.

But his comments embarrassed me and I immediately was overcome with remorse; I felt silly and childish. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. It won't happen again..." I muttered. Then an idea came to me. "Look, Terry....I could go to work. That would help. Take the strain off you. I could get another job and then we could really be partners. I'd be contributing..."

"What?" he scoffed. "Work? You? At what?"

I pulled a face. "Teach. I was a teacher, remember?"

Another mocking laugh. "Teach? How exactly will that pay off the National Debt? One shopping trip alone would be a month's take home pay for you...Think! The extra clothes you would have to buy, because even teaching our Tink would have to power dress no doubt, then the transport charges - you know how much a season ticket on the tube costs, honey? Then the nursery fees for our daughter. I assure you I would not allow her to go anywhere but the best and the top day nurseries charge about a teacher's annual income. Did you know that? Bet you didn't. Then there would be the need for more home help, as you would be out most of the day, then the fact our daughter would now see neither of us....You would be working and it would be costing us both in money and the emotional strain on all our lives. And we'd end up in negative equity where sex was concerned, hey? Seeing as we already get none..."

"That's not fair! You know it isn't my fault and I only just thought of the job...it was just an idea...a suggestion...I was trying to be helpful..."

Terry threw his pen down and stood up. "Well, think before you make the next one, hey?" He snapped as he walked towards the door and slung on his leather jacket.

"Where are you going at ten at night?" I asked stridently.

"Out. I need a break. Some fresh air and a couple of beers."

"Terry....you can't simply walk out now....!"

"Watch me..."

"Terry...what about if I want a break? I've been stuck here all day...."

But the door banged and he had gone.

Needless to say we didn't manage to make love that night either.

 

But I think he had used the time to think, for it was just after that when he made a very definitive gesture. He must have acknowledged that we were both handling things badly and ultimately not to blame. This was real life and no one had ever said it would be easy. Trust Terry Thorne to come up with the best plan of action.

A couple of days later, he called me unexpectedly in the morning. It was a long time since he had just rung me for an idle chat; he was always so busy once he hit the office. But this time he just seemed to want to play and tease and it felt good. The doorbell rang and I excused myself to get it. A delivery boy held out a beautiful flower arrangement, predominantly roses. The card was simple. "Love you. I forgot to tell you."

I ran back to the phone. "You sent me flowers!" I screeched.

"Yeah...please don't take it out on my ears, though. So you like them? Okay...here's the next part in my grand seduction....Get dolled up. Tonight we are going out. Bring an overnight bag. Or a spare pair of knickers...or just come naked under your frock...I think I can stand that thought...for a while at least...."

I burst out laughing. "What? Is this romantic night going to include your daughter? Must I bring the baby wagon and all the necessary munitions...?"

At that he giggled. "She is not invited. I called Heather and they are coming over and spending the night. Make sure you've enough milk for her and as soon as I get home we are out of there...."

"Why?" I asked rather pointlessly. "I mean...what brought this on?"

Another laugh, but this time deeper and huskier. Terry was thinking about sex. "Blue balls. And a desire to fuck you until my eyes pop out. Any objections?"

I gulped. It was a long, long time since he had been that predatory or obvious about it. When I had been pregnant he had been so attentive and gentle with me. It was a shock to my system to witness Terry about to turn it on full blast. I was already sitting in a puddle.

"None at all. I shall just go and prepare myself for the sacrifice..."

"You do that. Remember, I want it all. Sexy lingerie....neat little trim job....everything moisturized and cleansed, perfumed and decorated....and then....I intend to make you reek of me...." His voice dipped and rumbled as he said that and I swear I went lightheaded. It was like starting all over and remembering how it had once been.

With the added knowledge that came from the bits in between.

 

*

 

I spent the rest of the day vacillating between uncontrollable excitement and real anxiety. I just couldn't wait to spend time alone with Terry but I also couldn't bear leaving Maia. I had never been away from her side for more than a few hours since the day she was born and then only when Terry was with her. What would the child make of finding both of us gone?

Even though she knows Heather and Lachlan so well, she had still never been left with anyone but her Mum and Dad and a whole night seemed a pretty drastic first step. I frantically expressed milk until my breasts were sore, cuddled her more than ever as a reassurance as much to myself as her and subsequently left myself late in getting ready, having to hare around in double quick time. Terry arrived back earlier than I had anticipated just as Heather and Tristan did. He wouldn't hang about and I hardly had time to run all over all the millions of instructions with her about Maia. She just laughed, said "Don't keep a desperate man waiting..." and told me that everything would be fine, Lach was on his way and we were to close the door and forget about everything but ourselves. I told her to feel at home and help themselves to anything they needed. A quick kiss all round and we were off.

Terry was pretty quiet as we pulled away, a little smug, but giving nothing away. He flicked on the CD and there was some pulsating rock blaring out. Looks like he was in the mood for some action. I smiled, looked over at him and settled back. But when I found us heading out of London towards the M4, I found myself a little uneasy.

"Where we going?"

"Surprise."

"Terry...is this a good idea? Shouldn't we stay closer to home in case....?"

"No...that is exactly why we need to get well away. You have to learn to let go a little. Maia is beginning to rule our lives in a way that is not entirely healthy. You are obsessing again. Maybe I am too. Time to remember why we wanted her so much...Tink...it began with us. We have to make time for us too or we are going to get lost in all this. I will not have that happen again...." I wondered what he meant by again. He and Penny? I wasn't about to inquire. I decided I was going to leave that lethal topic alone tonight.

When Terry plays the boss, then you simply have to accept it. He won't be crossed when his mind is made up and for once I didn't argue, despite the dull ache in my heart where Maia always gets me. So I shrugged, lay back and tuned my mind out, watching as the miles rolled by on a beautiful early July evening. I worked out where we were off to - or at least the general direction. Either Oxford or the Cotswolds. Bloody long way for a screw, if you ask me. But obviously Terry didn't. So I kept my mouth shut.

 

 

The Bibury Court Hotel just outside the village that claims to be one of the most beautiful in England, Bibury. A warm summer's evening. We drove up the long driveway from the road and checked into this delightful Jacobean Hall and into its best suite with a view of the deer park and the river. Not, I hesitate to add that we actually took much notice of the exterior view. The interior was more than we had wished for. And that was before we actually noticed the room.

Terry simply put down the case and picked me up and carried me to the bed; we were already lip-locked and pulling at clothes. Four months. Imagine that? Four whole months. Two months separated and then two months together weathering traumatic events and life altering changes. There was so much to say - but first, a very important bridge to build. The one of our bodies.

Both of us were simply carried away by need and passion; he had been right. As much as we loved our daughter, the knowledge that she was nowhere in sight freed us to be selfish and indulge our first love - each other - and frankly, we needed the attention. Even kissing, fully dressed, writhing about on the large four poster, felt like something new and quite delicious. I just wanted to sample that heart-stopping attention he is capable of giving, mouth-to-mouth of a most reviving sort. There is absolutely nothing like kissing. It is such a crazy thing to do when you think about it. That is why it breaks down all the barriers and leaves you panting and aroused like two kids in the back of a car on prom night.

Eventually we came up for air and just lay there wrapped up in each other, clothes disturbed but still essentially dressed. I knelt up and straddled him, unbuttoning his shirt slowly while he lay back languidly and watched me, suddenly ready to slow things down. When all the buttons were done, I turned my attention to his cuff links, popping each deftly and folding back his shirt sleeves. "I love your hands...I love your forearms...they make me weak...to think how strong you are and how you use your hands on me..." I whispered. Terry merely smiled but I could see the carnality of that expression. He was going to give into what he was feeling and I was going to love it.

I shimmied down. Took off his shoes and socks, caressed his feet sensuously, running my hands up his ankles and ruffling the hair on his well shaped shins, knowing he loves that. He's a tactile man - and it works both ways. He raised his hips while I unfastened his pants and slid them off, returning quickly to cup his groin and squeeze hard, delighting in the responding lurch of the solid erection straining at the soft silk of his boxers. There was a small damp spot on the grey sheen and I massaged it, stimulating the head of his penis; he grunted and moved my hand.

"Too good..." was all he said as he rolled me over and crawled above me. His hands rested on either side of my face, weights on his elbows, groin resting against my lower belly, grinding softly as he murmured, dipped for kisses, ran his tongue down my face, licked my ear, nuzzled, sucked, eased open my blouse, burrowed between my breasts, growled soft and low in satisfaction and then took a nipple, already leaking and sucked. I gasped at the strong suction. He grunted as the spray hit the back of his throat. I had fantasized him doing this; so far he had shown no sign of desire to do it. But now I know it must have been on his mind a lot. As he drank I could feel him rub harder against me, driving himself to the edge. Not that I was far away. Imagine the added stimulation that a lactating women feels when it is her man at her breast and the effect that has on arousal? It was enough to make me come even before he touched me.

He broke away and smacked his lips, raising his head with a hooded smile. "Never realized what a strong jet it was....Jesus, she's got some thirst on her..." he giggled.

I murmured. "The other one...it's aching...relieve the pressure...both types..."

"So sweet....so warm....Jesus, I could get a taste for this...." he muttered as he turned to the other nipple.

I held his head and played with his hair, undulating my body against his in utter pleasure as he fed. "Taste it...whenever you want...I've been longing for you to....I thought you were turned off by the thought of it..."

"Turned off? You crazy...this is about the sexiest thing a man can do with his woman..." he moaned and went back to his feast. I just lay back and came. I think that startled him when he realized that is all it had taken. I think it aroused him to an incredible intensity. After that it is a bit of a blur. He was already naked; He just hiked up my skirt and pulled down my knickers. No finesse. I was wet, orgasmic, weepy, calling his name, frantically running my hand down his back and arms. He thrust in. I was tight and cried out...he pulled back and whispered "Did I hurt you...I'm sorry, I'm sorry...!"

I grabbed him and steered him back. "No! It's tight...that's all...I want you...I want you....I want you..."

This time he went slower. This time I felt my body gradually loosen, open its petals and bloom for him until he slid deeper. My muscles flexed, he pushed, his hands gripping my hips as he writhed down, grinding his hips and moaning at the intense sensation. There were so many added stimuli; the length of time we had waited, his experience of delivering Maia, the womanly scent of milk, the taste of me, the feel of him, our differences, our need, our new status as partners...how to explain the complex intricacy of arousal and desire for a man and a woman in love? It is so different from the purely sexual desire that drives the other intense forms of physical connection.

But at this level, pleasure feels sublime. Nirvana.

Sticky and fulfilled, laughing and crying with relief and sensation, we lay sprawled out, ungainly, giggling at my skirt around my waist and knickers hanging off my ankle. In the aftermath sex is so absurd, isn't it?

"I had it all worked out..." Terry lay back and grinned. "I was going to give you my 5-star seduction - the Thorne total full on sensory experience...." He snorted. "Instead you got 'horny kid on a Saturday night when his girl suddenly says Go!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way, you stud muffin..." I grabbed his love handles and squeezed. "I cannot tell you how much I needed that. I just wanted you to blow me away. And you did. The complete Terry Thorne 'Man as a Human steam roller' treatment. The 'Nail This Woman into the ground' experience. Man.....I feel like a WOMAN!" I screeched and banged my legs up and down on the bed like a little kid having a fit. Terry just rolled on his side, found his fags and we lit up. I coughed my guts up and stubbed it out, suddenly guilty. I should not be smoking. So while he dragged lazily on his, I cuddled up close.

Then:

"I forgot to remind her about Flopsy!"

"Fuck!" Terry replied as if I had just said that the Third World War had broken out. (Very possible if Maia did not have Flopsy in her cradle) Flopsy is an impossibly soft pink bunny rabbit that Terry had brought her in Halifax when she was a day old. So Maia has known Flopsy almost as long as her parents and NEVER sleeps without her. "It'll be alright...Flopsy's always in the cot...."

"No! She was playing with her in the bassinette in the lounge....oh God, Terry...she'll be distraught!"

"Fucking hell!" He was on the phone before I had finished the sentence. Can you believe it? There we were, dripping in sex, naked on a bed and calling home about a furry pink rabbit.

'Course you can. We're parents. 

"Curry? She has to have Flopsy or she can't sleep...What do ya mean? Fuck you..." Terry started to laugh. I grabbed the phone.

"Lachlan? Is she...?"

"Uma...she's asleep. Tucked up safe and sound with Flopsy. Now go and tuck yourself up with that big, ugly, hairy bunny of yours....and leave me and my girl to have sex all over your beautiful couch....."

"You get any stains on it and I will kill you!"

"Just call it baby vomit...who would know?" He chuckled cheekily. "Now... bugger off and don't call again....she's fine. Fast asleep. Everything is apples....I'm hanging up now..." and he did.

I lay back down and sighed. Terry ran his hands around my waist and pulled me against him, nuzzling at my ear. "She's fine. Let's shower and eat? I'm starving, love..."

We showered quickly, washing each other and drying each other's hair while we talked. Terry loves to do that. Just play with my hair as it dries, waving the dryer over it. Of course it looks dreadful when he's finished so I just pin it up, but he adores the whole tactile experience of grooming  a woman's hair.. With Terry it just feels incredibly sensuous. Then I shaved him. Just with an electric razor because he wasn't really stubbly or anything. He always runs the electric razor over his face in the evening to keep the shadow at bay but wet shaves in the morning. But still I like to tend to his face, standing between his legs while he rubs my hips tenderly, just talking about this and that.

We dressed; Terry had said smart so we looked pretty good when we were ready, and then we wandered down to the village to The Swan Hotel. On the way, we dawdled past the village oval watching a tedious cricket match played in the English languid gentlemanly way, not the aggressive Aussie style. Terry kept muttering "Get a finger out! Run, you fast bastard! Jesus, my grandma could have got that!", but still hanging about until I steered him past down the lane and over the bridge into this idyllic little village. He walked along his hands in his pockets, kicking at stones and I danced ahead; we discussed moving to a village like this one day. How great it would for Maia to grow up here instead of in the city!

He does want to sell the apartment. He admitted it had been worrying him. Every time he thought about the open plan, split-level, he had nightmares about Maia crawling about and falling off. Like any other man, he just had to have time to work it out himself and my style of going in with guns blazing on the attack had just riled him. We talked about putting the flat on the market and seeing what happened; he said he had a few ideas of things that might raise him some side income. I said "Legal?" He answered by raising his right hand and rolling it from side to side as if to say borderline. But he did insist he would not break any law- although he might bend a few. That was about as much as he was prepared to tell me. Not quite sure how much I liked that - but I trust him. He's too straight a bloke ever to get involved in anything wrong.

 

 

The Swan hotel was simply delightful; a famed restaurant housed in an old ivy clad row of converted cottages. We stood at the bar and it felt like something I hadn't done for years. Just to go to a pub with a fella and have a drink.

"Usual poison? Bombay Sapphire and Tonic?" he asked one eyebrow cocked. "Ice and a slice?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Mineral water's fine. Ice and a slice, then I can pretend it's a real drink." I wanted a glass of wine with my meal and had to think of my milk. These days I am so sensible. Don't even recognise myself.

"Good girl. But one gin, hey? It'll have gone through your system before morning..." he said with a smile as he ordered his pint of real ale.

"Better not. Gin...given it up. You want to make Maia even more grumpy than she already is?"

"Fair point," he replied with a laugh and got me water. 

It was so serene there on the patio on that glorious night, looking out over the garden at the back, choosing our food and leisurely catching up. How bizarre! We live together and yet I think we spoke more that evening than we had in weeks. Nothing really momentous.  Some talk of where we might like to live, work talk where Terry filled me in on some of the TOL cases and new initiatives, things we had read, or seen....and sometimes just sitting there, looking about or smiling at each other. Men and women need this. Time out for themselves. Time to recall who you really are.

"You need to get out more, Tink. I don't really want you to work - and I know that sounds sexist and probably is - but there will only be Maia. I missed all of Henry's life as a child. I want you to have that - and I want to have as much of that for me as I can. And I want her to have both of us, not bits and pieces that we have left when everyone else has finished with us. She's too special for that. We're too special for that.... But you need an outlet. A break. Friends. Valuable things to do with your time..."

"I know. I really do and I shall! I promise. But she is still so little and I am still learning how to be a Mum. Give me a couple of months and then I'll hit the big bad world again..." I took his hand and measured my small palm against his larger one. He grabbed my wrist and massaged it sensuously.

"Don't get too obsessed. I know what you're like. Whatever you do, it takes you over. You lose sight of things..."

"I promise. I shall learn to let go. I know that it isn't good for either of us but it's so hard. She's so little....I love her so very much..."

"I know. Me too. But tough love, hey? She's playing us already. I know it. You know it. We both gotta get firm with her..."

I could not imagine him ever getting 'firm' with his precious baby girl. Guess it was up to me to play the disciplinarian. What a notion! Uma as the tough guy.

Dinner was exquisite - but then most things would have been to me who had been eating my own cooking for months and often simply making so with baby rusks when I couldn't be bothered. Terry was always on my case for that sort of thing. I had a glass of wine and it went straight to my head - I hadn't had any alcohol in so many months. He drank the rest of the bottle of wine so he was pretty laid back himself, enough to get up on the tiny dance floor when this rather ancient crooner with his piano started to sing. Terry listened to the song and laughed, jumped straight up and held out his hand to me, jerking me into his hand and making other diners smile.

"Terry....this is so cheesy...." I giggled.

"I know...perfect, hey?" Actually it was. Dancing cheek to cheek to the old Commodores song, 'Three times a Lady'

 

 

He sang it softly in my ear as we moved round the tiny floor. His breath tickled. I giggled. He fooled about, suddenly dipping me or pulling me between his legs tango-style as easily as if I were a rag doll. It was that oh-so-sexual dancing you do when you first get together with a guy. I felt that excitement of the unknown, of a strong man flaunting what he has to offer me, that rising tide of desire that seems in danger of sweeping you away. Only Terry could still do that to me after all this time.

Our eyes met. I knew before he spoke. "Let's go back. We need to take this much, much further..." he pulled me again his groin and the sensation of his hardness made me shiver.

I know he was slightly high after drinking most of the bottle - but most of his mood was not alcohol- generated. I was just as bad.  We were drunk on each other. It was like falling in love again - but it was better. It was realizing just how much we were in love already t with each other. And probably always would.

Out in the night air, a little cooler now the sun had gone down, the sky still not really dark, typical for July nights, Terry threw his arm around me and we sauntered along past the tiny cottages, down the high street, stopping to loiter in shop doorways or bus shelters to kiss and fool around. Then we would break apart, he would take my hand and swing it while we talked and laughed and then kissed some more. Responsibilities and parenthood, every day life and money worries, all the things that have to be there but cloud the truth seemed to roll away like clouds on a summer day, ephemeral and without real substance. I love this man and he loves me. We love our daughter. There is nothing that can shake that.

"I love you above all things..." he suddenly whispered that old endearment into my ear. It was a long time since he had said it to me.

"What about Maia? Thought you had a new addiction?" I teased as I reached up and nibbled on his chin. I love doing that, running my tongue in that cute cleft and biting softly.

He pulled away, flexing his neck, irritated by my attentions; sometimes he reminds me of a little boy whose mother won't leave him alone. "Maia's different. Maia is you. And me. And herself. You can't put your flesh and blood in any list. They just are the centre. Your whole life and what it was really for. When you come down to it..."

He just comes out with these comments now and again with his clear thinking directness - and blows my mind. I couldn't even answer him. We stopped in our tracks in the middle of a country road out of town at eleven thirty on a summer's night and just stared into each other's eyes. And then he took my hand in his and we walked back to the hotel.

That night we made love for hours and hours or so it seems in my memory. From the moment that the door closed and we reached for each other, it was like a slow dance of love. I recalled the first time we ever made love, how I knew then quite clearly that this was the one man who could touch me in some place that I  had never even known I had. That night in July, I was back there, back in Spain too where he had shown me what the future together could be like, back to a Caribbean island where I had proved that I would trust him blindly to always be there for me, back in Louisiana when we reclaimed each other from the dead, back in Manila where we faced the truth about our needs and our frailties, in an elevator one surreal night....that night, we were every single time we had ever made love all wrapped up together.

I don't really remember the graphic details. It isn't like that when you have sex with the man you love. You just become two souls fused as one in heart and body and mind. From stripping each other bare slowly and tenderly, kissing every treasured part of the other, to touching and feeling, stroking and caressing through writhing and rolling, burying oneself into the other, snaffling and inhaling, drinking and lapping, biting and squeezing...Every step growing more and more intense, each starburst of pleasure heightening the tension. Nothing is crude or edgy or experimental or dirty. It isn't like playing or having fun. Even if it is both those things, too. It is what men and women are really for.

Sex is just what we do while we are waiting for real love to find us.

Terry was actually in fine form...I suppose the earlier wild session and the alcohol had slowed him down - but that was what we both wanted. Sometimes we took a break, rolled apart, talked about something, even had a little laugh and then we would reach out again. Time was still, as still as the fragrant night air rolling in from the rose garden below our open window. Sense was heightened. Clarity was granted.

"This is the first time we've had a chance to think since it all happened. We hit the ground running. Been trying to catch up ever since..."

"I wanted to go. I just didn't want to leave. Does that make sense?"

"Times like this will always be rationed. Real life is a slog. But we got to hold on to this. This is what gets us through..."

"I miss her. Even now."

"Me too."

It was when he was lying between my open legs, parting me, while he was loving me with his mouth, he paused. Looked up. "I remember how you gave birth to her. The honour that I was given to be the one to witness that. I can never look upon any woman again and forget that moment...."

"I thought it might put you off sex with me. You know that Madonna and whore conflict men have...?"

"Christ... am I different? Has the opposite effect. Like...you know women are turned on most by men when they are being men....fighting, at war, working with their bodies, belligerent, predatory...physical...you know? Well, seeing you at the highest point of your womanhood....giving birth....watching that miracle....it's changed me forever...is it kinky to say your cunt turns me on even more to think what it is really capable of? Taking my gift and turning it into life? The real alchemist's quest. Base metal into gold?"

"Makes sense to me. I never did think a man was defined by his cock or a woman by her cunt but now I think we are - but in a different way. The urge to be one drives so much of our lives and we wander, searching for the ideal mate... that lottery is so filled with intoxicating side roads to lure us away. But our rational minds, our brains, build us into the men and women we really are, help us make choices, find the life we want, be the whole person we need to be and then....we find that one...and that is when the cock and cunt learn their true power and their wondrous beauty is revealed...to real men and women, anyway...well, s'my opinion, boss..."

"Stop talking...show me how much your brain likes my dick...."

When he came, it was so intense that I was sure he must be in pain. I cannot imagine what it is like for a man, even if my own orgasms had swept through my body likes waves crashing powerfully on a shore. I held him as he shuddered his last, his face in my hands, watched his eyelids flutter open and his mouth gape slightly, trying to speak but only capable of guttural sounds.

"Does it hurt?"

"No...it's...Christ...fuck..." Silence. "I can't think. Like my mind is dislocated. Not pain. Only sensation. So intense.  Like I've no body. Just cock. Heat. Wet. Tight. Soft. Hard. Images. Thought. Stray words. Slideshow. Like electric impulses are throwing up charges where my brain usually is."

He tried. I listened. I felt his heart thudding beneath my palm and then begin to slow to its usual strong steady rhythm. I wrapped my legs through his; he crushed me against his chest. I suppose we must have slept then.

It couldn't have been more than two hours or so later when I awoke. I had been dreaming of Maia and I couldn't find her in the flat. The fear woke me with a start and I sat up. The bed was empty. Terry was standing over by the open window, naked, looking out.

"Hey! What's the matter?" I asked, dragging hair out of my eyes.

He turned. "Couldn't sleep. Well, bad dream. Heard her crying. Couldn't reach her..."

"Me too. I miss her. Say she wakes up early and we're not there? She'll be scared...."

"Let's go home, love..." He whispered.

I smiled and opened my arms to him. "Who's the obsessed parent, now?"

Terry shrugged. "Can't help it. We needed last night. But we need her more. She needs us. I don't want to waste a single minute. Threw away most of my life...can't afford not to make the most of the rest..."

We took a quick shower and dressed carelessly, throwing clothes and such into the case at breakneck speed. Down at reception, the night clerk looked surprised, raising one eyebrow at checking someone out at four in the morning.

"Plane to catch, sir?' he observed wryly. Terry just signed the receipt with a flourish and said with a grin. "How much sex does any guy need?" Might as well go home to the wife and kid now..."

I kicked his leg and he laughed. Out at the car, I caught him up. "Why did you say that?" I laughed.

"Hey...I've got a rep to protect. Can't admit, I'm worried about the baby's morning feed, can I?"

We drove off and I snuggled down in the deep leather seats, my hand on his thigh, stroking lightly as we hit the empty roads. Must have fallen asleep. By the time I woke we were almost home. God knows how he kept alert.

We almost ran in and could hardly stand the time the elevator took to reach our floor. The key was hardly in the door before we heard it. Maia. Crying piteously. Inside the lounge stood a tousle-headed sleepy Lachlan in his shorts, trying to coax her with a bottle and looking pretty desperate. When he heard us walk in, he glanced up in shock. "Bloody hell...what the....?"

Terry tossed the keys onto the table, dropped the case and strode over and picked her from him. Maia sobbed on but at least stopped wailing to stare accusingly at him. Her father smiled down at her nonsense talking.

"I'm sorry, mate...she was fine until about an hour ago. Woke up and took one look at both of us and just threw a blue. Wouldn't feed, wouldn't be pacified - Heather even tried to breastfeed her but she got madder and madder. Woke Tristan, set him off...I came out here but she just wouldn't stop..."

I put a hand on his arm. "Not your fault. Thanks for trying. I feel so bad you've had this mess...she's okay now....go back to bed...apologise to Heather...."

He grinned. "No worries. Long as you had a good time. What brought you back?"

Terry looked up, Maia now nestled in the crook of his arms, sucking on his little finger. "Great night. Mission accomplished. Missed her. I mean, sex is sex...what do you do after?" he asked with a grin.

"Have a ciggie? Sleep?" Lachlan teased.

"After that?" Terry countered.

"Another go?"

"After that?"

They both laughed. "I'll get back up then, boss. See you in the morning...well, later anyway..."

I sat down and took her, opened my shirt and she began to feed. Terry sat ay my feet, just stroking us both. The early sun shone on the three of us in a shaft of pale light. Talk about moment of clarity, hey?

 

*

 

"...Will you turn that fucking laptop off? All I can hear is tap, tap, tap..." I jumped to hear Terry's husky sleepy voice behind me. Quickly closing down, I slipped back to bed; he threw back the covers and staggered to the bathroom, peed noisily and then stumbled back in, throwing himself down and appearing to return almost immediately to sleep. I should have been sleepy by then but my mind was too full of stimulation, memories of the past and wouldn't close down as easily as the laptop. Maia would be awake in a while. I would pay for this all day. But...what the hell...?

I slid my hand down his warm body into the fuzz of hair and beyond to cup his warm, wrinkly balls and jostle them in my palm, kneading gently. He grunted but didn't move. Wriggling down below the cool cotton summer bedding, I nuzzled against his soft thick cock, smelt its musky scent, moaned and then licked. His legs parted slightly and I could feel the looseness pervade his body as the blood began to pulse his cock to hardness. My lips slipped over his shaft and I began to love him. He groaned deeply.

"Not my birthday any more," he muttered and gently eased me from him to lift me back onto the pillow before rolling over me, erect cock now urgent against my sex.

"Must be mine then," I whispered as he slowly eased inside.

On cue the intercom crackled into life and we heard the sound of Maia waking, crying half heartedly and then stopping, talking to something in her bed; Flopsy must have been there. So we did what we mostly do now...

...Ignored her and made love. She soon finds something to occupy her. Even little girls can wait a while. Sometimes big girls just have to be seen to first.

I snuggled into his embrace and wrapped my legs around as he grunted and thrust deep. "Mmmm...who's your Daddy now...?" 

 

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