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‘If you’re married, that’s fine. If you’re engaged, that’s almost acceptable—though it would raise eyebrows and cause a whole world of unwanted comment here.’
Magenta laughed incredulously. ‘Are you saying only married women can have children?’
‘That’s the usual way, isn’t it?’
Dumbstruck, Magenta stared at Nancy, a girl she had thought so feisty and up to the mark in everything.
‘You’re having Quinn’s baby, right?’ Nancy demanded in her usual forthright way.
She nodded.
‘And you’re seriously considering going ahead with the pregnancy?’
‘Of course I am. What else would I do?’
‘How long have I got?’ Nancy murmured under her breath.
‘You disapprove?’ Magenta couldn’t have been more surprised.
‘I don’t, but everyone else will.’
‘But it’s no one else’s business. I’m not asking for help. I won’t be a burden to anyone. I won’t even expect Quinn to take an active role in bringing up his baby if he doesn’t want to.’
‘Boy, are you naïve.’ Nancy was full of concern now. ‘Honestly, Magenta, I always thought you were smart, but now I’m not so sure. Can’t you see what this will do to your reputation? Oh, forget that,’ Nancy said, shaking her head in exasperation. ‘You won’t be able to work, so what will your reputation even matter?’
‘That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?’ Magenta demanded wryly. ‘I can’t see why it should change anything.’
‘And how many unmarried mothers do you know?’
‘Well, none in this—’ She had been about to say ‘this world’ but quickly held her tongue.
‘Do you have family who can care for the baby while you work?’
‘No, but what about childcare?’
‘Childcare!’ Nancy exclaimed. ‘What planet are you living on? And without money to support yourself you’re going to be in a real bind, Magenta. You have no idea what’s ahead of you, do you?’ Nancy demanded, staring her in the eyes. ‘If you did, you wouldn’t want this baby.’
‘Nancy, no, stop it. I can’t believe you mean that.’
‘You’ll be finished in advertising,’ Nancy said in a calm voice that really frightened Magenta. ‘And all the men here will have a field day.’
‘Then we won’t tell them.’
‘Not even Quinn?’
‘I’ll choose my time.’
Nancy laughed, but it was a hollow sound. ‘Yes, you do that,’ she agreed.
‘And as for being finished…’
‘It’s not you, Magenta,’ Nancy was quick to say. ‘It’s what everyone will think of you.’
‘And what will you think of me?’
‘I’m sorry you even have to ask that question,’ Nancy told her, meeting Magenta’s stare. ‘My feelings won’t change—and I’ll help you all I can. You just can’t expect Quinn is going to step in, or that he’ll even acknowledge the baby is his. He only has your word for that. I’m sorry, Magenta, but that’s the truth and I’d rather I say it than you hear it from someone else…’
Of course—no DNA tests, no proof. No help of any kind for single mothers in the sixties—that was what Nancy was telling her. How had women managed? Magenta felt as bad as she had ever felt in her life—not for herself, but for all those women who had been treated so shabbily. ‘And what if I don’t care what people think? What if I make a go of it?’
Nancy said nothing, which was an answer in itself.
Magenta shook her head. ‘I’m not ready to have this conversation,’ she admitted. ‘It’s too soon. I’m still getting over the thrill of discovering I’m pregnant. I hadn’t thought of it as a problem, or anything remotely close. I’m sorry, Nancy, I shouldn’t have burdened you with this.’
‘Who else can you confide in?’ Nancy pointed out with her usual pragmatism. ‘Don’t worry about me. It’s you I’m worried about. You should take some time off work, try to come up with a plan. I’ll help you.’
‘I don’t want to take time off work—I’m pregnant, not ill.’
‘But when you start to show?’
In the sixties, that would be her cue to feel ashamed, Magenta presumed, imagining the reaction from the men in the office. But would she even be here that long, or would she wake up long before then? Uncertainty hit her like an avalanche. What could she count on in this strange, disjointed world?
