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Sensing her desperation, Nancy gave her a hug.
‘I’m all right,’ Magenta insisted, pulling herself together. She would have to be. There was some irony in the fact that she had researched most things about the sixties except for this. But, if Nancy’s concern was anything to go by, impending motherhood must have been a nightmare prospect for a single woman in the sixties.
But that was no reason to give up. She had a baby to fight for now, and if people were as narrow-minded as Nancy suggested then she’d find a way to start up her own ad agency—working from home, if she had to. She would make this work and support her child whatever it took.
But then another, bigger problem hit her: would she still be pregnant in the real world? And, if the answer to that was no, did she want to wake up?
Maternal instinct was a formidable force, she realised as Nancy continued to offer advice. ‘Some women have no alternative but to have an abortion or give their child away.’
‘Then I feel sorry for their unimaginable plight, but I’m not one of them.’ Discovering first-hand what it had been like to exist in an era where the single mother had been stigmatised made Magenta long to be able to go into battle for each and every one of them.
‘And when some men find out you’re pregnant,’ Nancy went on, ‘they’ll assume you’re easy meat.’
‘Then they’ll soon learn they’re wrong. I’m sorry, Nancy—I don’t mean to have a go at you. It’s just that this is all so new to me. But don’t worry; I will sort it out. And I’m going make a start right now by telling Quinn.’
‘Good idea,’ Nancy agreed. ‘You should before you pass out, or you’re sick on someone’s shoes.’
Magenta managed to wrestle up a smile for her friend at the door. ‘I’ll try not to be sick on your shoes.’
‘That’s all I ask,’ Nancy said, playing the same game with a faint smile in return.
Quinn was packing up his things when Magenta knocked on his office door and walked in. Before she had found out about the baby, they had agreed to meet in town for something to eat, but events were moving too fast to wait for that.
‘Hey,’ he said, looking up. ‘Hungry already?’
She stood for a moment just drinking him in. Quinn had announced that the last day before the holidays would be a dress-down day. No one did casual better than he did and, in faded jeans and a leather jacket left open over a close-fitting top, he looked amazing. But it wasn’t Quinn’s physical features that drew her; that was the least of it. It was the warmth in his eyes and the curve of his mouth. She wanted to frame that and remember it, as if tomorrow was coming round a lot faster than she wanted it to, and then everything would change.
‘Well, come on,’ he said. ‘Spit it out. I know that look.’ Still leaning over the desk, he gave her the Quinn smile, the one with warmth, fun and trust in it.
She took a breath and began. ‘I know I told you I was on the pill.’ She didn’t need to say anything else. Quinn’s face had already changed. Frown lines had deepened between his eyes. ‘I know it was only that one time…’ she went on.
‘When circumstances overcame us?’ Quinn straightened up.
That’s one way of putting it, Magenta thought as anxiety started to build inside her. She couldn’t read Quinn. She didn’t have a clue what he was thinking. ‘You’re pregnant?’
‘Yes, I am.’ They had grown so close, yet suddenly Quinn was like a stranger standing in judgement on her. ‘I don’t want anything from you.’
‘Why not?’
That was the one question she hadn’t anticipated. ‘Because I can manage this on my own.’
‘So, you’re cutting me out?’
‘I just don’t want to be dependent on anyone.’
‘Sounds to me like I’m going to be a father but you’d prefer I didn’t interfere.’
‘I’m sorry if it came out that way, it’s not what I meant.’
‘How do I know that?’
‘You’ll just have to take my word for it.’
‘Like I took your word for the fact that you were on the pill?’
‘Aren’t we both equally responsible?’ Now she was getting mad.
‘Well, of course we are, Magenta, and I’m happy to accept full responsibility. I only wish you could be as straight with me.’
‘I am being straight with you.’
‘Are you? I feel like I don’t know you—like you’re hiding something.’
‘I can explain.’
But she couldn’t. How could she explain what she couldn’t understand? How could she tell Quinn that this was a dream and that she might wake up at any moment to find out that none of it was happening?
