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She should have known that happiness was as fragile as time—and that it didn’t do to be too greedy where either was concerned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE idyll lasted for a matter of weeks. During this time, they visited a fun fair; Quinn won a lop-eared rabbit on the shooting range and held Magenta tight when they rocketed through the candy-floss-scented air. Playing it serious, they went to an art gallery one day and to a concert the next, before Quinn changed the pace, taking her down into a cellar for some alternative musical entertainment, where the throbbing beat rang off the walls along with the sweat.
Switching styles, he escorted her to an up-town disco where they danced on a mirrored floor beneath coloured lights. On another night they saw Breakfast at Tiffany’s at the cinema with an exquisitely beautiful Audrey Hepburn in the lead. One evening they decided to stay at home and cuddled up in front of the television, watching Goldie Hawn playing the ditsy blonde in Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in. Then late one night they discovered a mutual love of jazz, and ate hot dogs at a late-night cab stand after the jazz club, sharing anecdotes with friendly cabbies as they licked mustard and ketchup off each other’s fingers.
She was falling in love, Magenta realised as Quinn walked her home along the embankment, where the river Thames stretched wide and silent at their side like a black-satin ribbon sprinkled with stars.
It was a wild, funny, tender, rollercoaster time, during which they grew as close as two people could grow. Now tomorrow was Christmas Eve, a time for presents, fun and celebration.
It was definitely not a time for Magenta to be clutching the edge of the sink in the ladies’ room at the office, while wondering if she was going to pass out or be sick.
I’m pregnant, she thought, staring at her green-tinged reflection in the mirror.
It had only been the one time without protection, but one time was enough. And she was sure. She had never been more certain of anything in her life—she was expecting Quinn’s baby.
But how could this happen in a dream-world?
Anything could happen in a dream, Magenta reasoned, though dreams didn’t usually feel as realistic as this, nor did they usually last as long. She was growing increasingly concerned—or was that hopeful?—that perhaps she really was in the sixties. There was no need for her to buy a pregnancy kit to confirm what she already knew. The changes in her body had been swift and all-consuming. She was late, sick and, more important than all of that, had the overwhelming sense that she wasn’t alone in her body any longer, a fact which thrilled her beyond belief. She felt instantly protective of the tiny life inside her, even though motherhood wasn’t part of her life plan, or even her dream plan. And, yes, it might have taken two to tango, but she had never asked anything of Quinn and she didn’t intend to start now.
The rest of the day passed quickly, with everyone tidying up the loose ends of the campaign in preparation for the launch after the holidays. Magenta stayed behind to make sure the new top-flight team of men and women had everything they needed before she left. Quinn was still working in his office when it came time to lock up. She had some chilly hours of uncertainty ahead of her, she reflected, picking up her coat in the staff room. She was the only one who knew about her baby—Quinn’s baby—and, though she could happily cope with a pregnancy, she would prefer to do so in a world she understood. ‘Oh, why can’t I wake up?’ she murmured, without realising Nancy had joined her in the room.
‘Long, hard night?’ Nancy suggested with amusement. Opening her handbag, Nancy began to touch up her make-up.
‘A great night,’ Magenta admitted honestly. She hadn’t spent a night without Quinn since the party, which was weeks ago now, and they had all been great.
‘Is there something wrong?’ Nancy said, turning to look at her with new interest.
‘No,’ Magenta said with a laugh in her voice. ‘Long, hard day, that’s all.’
‘Are you sure that’s all? You look to me like you’re hiding something.’
‘No, I’m not.’ She was a hopeless liar. Nancy had become her best friend in this strange dream-world and Magenta was eager to share her news with someone. ‘Except…I’ve got something amazing to tell you.’
To Magenta’s dismay, Nancy paled. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘It’s the first thing that popped into my mind.’
‘And if I am? Would that be so terrible?’ From the expression on Nancy’s face, Magenta realised she was clinging by her fingertips to cloud nine—that as far as Nancy was concerned it was that bad.
