My first sighting of her was a rear view, as she bent over, struggling to release a baby cot-seat from its wheeled buggy, in the middle of platform two at Kings Cross station. As I approached I noticed two men and a woman bypass her without care, as they rushed for seats on the London to Aberdeen morning express. I heard her curse loudly, as she shook her hand in a motion that suggested that she had trapped a finger.

“Can I help,” I said.

“NO,” she shouted angrily, without turning round.

“Oh, sorry,” I muttered as I passed her, thinking what an unnecessarily aggressive response to a polite enquiry.

Just as I was about to step into the open carriage door she almost shouted, “Sorry, sorry. Yes please, would you?”

I turned to see a distraught, rather pretty, red faced young woman, gripping one hurt hand with the other.

“Yes, of course,” I said, and then found myself struggling to release an awkward catch, that had stuck because the edge of the baby’s blanket was trapped in one side. “Done it; that was a bit awkward. You’d have thought that they could have designed these things a bit simpler than that.”

“My fault,” she said, still with quite a lot of anger evident in her voice, “I was in a bit of a hurry getting out of the taxi, and the bloody driver did nothing to help.”

“Not a good start to your journey then, here, let me take these and you just look after your baby and your day bag, how’s your hand?”

“Okay, just a bit sore,” she replied, as we boarded the train and struggled down the isle with our luggage. We found an empty ‘compartment’, comprising the standard four seats with a central table, and I stowed her luggage as best I could.

She placed the baby’s cot-seat on the window seat, sat down next to it, and I put her day bag on the third. I hadn’t travelled by train for years, but I didn’t think that this arrangement was going to work for long if the train became busy, and frustrated passengers demanded a seat. I said nothing rather than risk another sharp response.

“Goodbye,” I said, “I’ve got a booked seat in another section of the train; I hope your day improves.”

“Oh, couldn’t you just sit there till the train starts going,” she appealed, pointing to the fourth empty seat. “Never know who might sit there. Not everyone likes being surrounded by baby paraphernalia; maybe you don’t.”

“Doesn’t bother me, been there and done it many times; okay, just till we get past the first stop,” though I had no idea where that was. I sat down, thinking that maybe I should have taken the usual BA shuttle flight from Gatwick. It would have been quicker and less hassle. I had only opted for the train because I had quite a bit of work to do before the meeting the following day, and I thought an eight-hour train journey would be ideal. Also, I was beginning to detest the ever-lengthening check in times and airport security checks, despite acknowledging the need.

“Thanks,” she said, and smiled. What a revelation! Her red cheeks had calmed down, and she really was a very pretty girl. She turned to her baby, and fussed over it in the usual motherly fashion. With her head down, perhaps shame facedly, she said, “Sorry about before, I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been a bit ‘off’ men recently, well actually quite a lot off, and for several months. Sorry again, you didn’t deserve that.”

There was so much latent anger in her voice that I didn’t enquire. Whilst she was distracted, I did the usual male thing of looking at her and making a physical assessment, though I couldn’t remember how long ago it was since I had last done that. I had already seen, following her through the carriage isle, how sharp and smart she looked, overdressed compared with her fellow travellers, as if she was going to meet someone special. Husband perhaps? With low heels and a smart skirt, topped with a tartan bolero style jacket, she made quite a striking picture.

Now with a front view, she appeared to be mid twenties, with shoulder length, dark, beautifully cut hair, and slightly full in the figure, probably due to the baby, who at first glance appeared very young. When her jacket pulled open she was wearing a plain white blouse, which judging by its tightness across a rather large bust, had been bought well before the happy event. A little silver crucifix dangled from a thin chain around her neck, indicating a religious side to her perhaps? Amazing how much detail one can observe in a five second take!

The train filled quickly, and occupying the fourth seat had been a shrewd move, because there were several enquiring glances, and one or two mumblings, as people searched for spare seats. They weren’t to know that the baby’s seat didn’t have its own ticket, which I’m pretty sure it hadn’t, and anyway, I’m a fairly big bloke who people tend not to challenge on most occasions.

As the train moved out, above the hum of surrounding passengers, chatting banalities over-loudly on mobile phones, we introduced ourselves; Max, Jenny and baby Bethany. Being a dad I took a genuine interest in the baby, who she explained was four months old, but looked small because she was premature. I leant over the table to look, and she was gorgeous, sleeping peacefully, oblivious of the noise around her. We were obviously on home ground chatting about baby things, because Jenny visibly relaxed in her seat.

Considering that we were almost complete strangers we chatted easily about pregnancy, babies and associated illnesses as the train pulled away. Bethany had suffered Colic recently apparently, and Jenny was quite surprised that I knew as much about it as she did.

“You seem very knowledgeable about babies, and medical things, you’re not a GP (doctor) are you?” Jenny asked.

“No, Nothing like that, I’ve got three of my own, and I think they had virtually every complaint when they were babies. I was forced to be very hands on with my kids, because my wife suffered pre eclampsia twice, amongst other things. No, I’m…."

“Don’t tell me. I like a challenge; I’m good at guessing peoples occupations. Well, normally I am. It’s a game my friends and I play sometimes, or used to, in the pub. Give me three tries.”

”So, am I supposed to guess what you do?” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Before she could answer we were interrupted by the guard/conductor, saying, “Tickets please.” Now that was something which sounded familiar from years before, so some things hadn’t changed on British Rail, or whatever they called themselves these days. He took our tickets together, probably thinking that we were travelling as a couple, and immediately queried them.

“You need to move compartments sir, this is a first class ticket,” he said rather pompously. “And you miss,” softening his tone, “will have to give up the other seat before long if anyone asks. If you wanted to occupy a second seat you should have bought another ticket.”

“Oh dear, sorry I thought babies and young children travelled free on this line,” Jenny pleaded unconvincingly.

“They do, but you’ll have to hold the baby on your lap, though I know that sounds daunting on a journey this long,” he said sympathetically. “But rules are rules.”

Recognising the likely outcome of that prospect in her angry state, I said, ”Look, if I’m moving, perhaps I could help out by paying to upgrade this ladies ticket to ‘first’.” Judging by the shocked look on Jenny’s face, my offer probably sounded over generous, but she wasn’t to know that it would all go on my company credit card, and would never be queried.

“Sorry,” he said, “You can only upgrade before you travel, but you can buy another ticket.”

I could see that Jenny was building up to a big refusal, but the inspector spoke first. Obviously having already taken in her appearance, he said, “I can make this a special case in the circumstances, I have the authority to upgrade the ladies ticket, but you’ll be responsible for her, and the baby mustn’t disturb the other first class passengers.”

“Of course inspector.” I said (that pleased him). “The baby won’t be any trouble, she’s very quiet.”

At that he looked rather confused about our relationship, but annotated Jenny’s ticket and moved on.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” she said, getting out of her seat and lifting the baby cot. “Were you really going to pay for my ticket? You hardly know me; do you know how much they cost? And you might regret saying ‘ very quiet’. She may be small, but she’s got a big set of noisy lungs when she wants.’” She giggled.

I didn’t answer that, but I said, “That’s one advantage of looking smart. He could hardly refuse with you looking like that.”

I was hoping to find that my reserved seat had empty seats next to it, but I needn’t have worried, the whole carriage was empty except for two elderly couples further down; not surprising really considering the astronomical price of the tickets, flying was much cheaper.

Jenny was settling happily into the spacious, luxurious seat. “Wow, quite a difference, there’s so much space, and it’s so quiet and private,” she exclaimed. “What with your kindness and the ticket mans consideration, you’re actually beginning to renew my faith in men, well some of them anyway. Thank you.”

I was thinking of a suitable reply to that when my phone rang. I apologised, and was about to move away, when she indicated, "It’s okay; stay there".

The conversation she heard was: “Hello Sue, everything ok? They’re up on the top shelf above the cooker; no problem; put Ellie on then; well you’ll have to wait until I get home, use the I-pad instead; love you, bye.”

I could see that Jenny was trying to keep an enquiring look off her pretty face, so I relieved the curiosity by saying, “Ellie’s my eldest, and she’s always annoyed with me when I go away, because she thinks that she’s quite capable of looking after the boys herself. She is too, she’s mature way above her age, but I’ve explained to her that it’s illegal, she’s only eleven. So my mother in law Sue lives in with them when I’m away; bless her, she’s a treasure.”

“Crickey, you must have started young,” Jenny said, unable to suppress her surprise. “You don’t look much older than me. Sorry we’re getting a bit personal aren’t we, and I haven’t given anything away.” She laughed. “Have you got a photo of them?”

I had, so I found the gallery on my I-phone and passed it over. “Oh what lovely kids, can I scroll, and is that your house, Wow! I presume that that’s your mum in law you just mentioned, and not your wife.”

“Stop a second,” I said, “Yes it is, but I’d better just tell you. We married at twenty when Ellie was born, and my wife was killed two years ago along with three others in a freak accident in Fulham, when a refuse lorry crashed onto the pavement’. She died instantly, I didn’t even have a chance to say...." I couldn’t suppress a noisy gulp in my throat as I choked up. It never seemed to get any easier, even after all this time.

“Oh my God, my God, I’m so sorry,” Jenny croaked, and put her hand to her mouth in shock. “ I remember it, oh you poor thing.”

A long silence followed. I had nothing left to say, my loss was palpable. Jenny had gone pale and looked shell shocked.

Bethany, or Beth as Jenny called her, broke the silence as she started to niggle. Jenny lifted the tiny little body out of the cot and comforted her against her chest. ”She can’t be hungry yet, I only fed her a couple of hours ago,” she said. She was becoming conscious of the noise as Beth began to cry. She lifted the baby to her nose, and said that she probably needed a change. “I suppose they’ve got changing facilities somewhere.”

“Probably in the toilet. Give her a quick change on the seat beside you,” I said, as I stretched across to lift the cot onto my side. “No one will know. Wrap the nappy quickly, and I’ll get rid of it before it smells.”

She did the deed expertly and folded the nappy. “It was only wee. Perhaps I should have found somewhere anyway,” she said, “because I need to go to the loo as well. I’ll dump the nappy if you would look after her for a minute, these train toilets aren’t the cleanest of places for a baby.” With that she leant across and handed Beth straight into my arms, picked up her little shoulder bag and went.

Just like that! I was more than surprised, I was ‘gob smacked’ to use the modern idiom. What greater trust is there than that! I held her close, and all the lovely baby smells immediately came back to me from long ago memories. Johnsons baby powder, milk, and so many other special smells. I loved it. Perhaps sensing a different ‘parent’, Beth started to niggle again, so I stood up and walked her up and down the aisle. One of the old ladies gave me a knowing smile, so there didn’t seem to be a problem with the noise.

After what seemed ages Jenny returned and took Beth. I noticed immediately that she had redone what little makeup she used, because her lipstick was noticeable, whereas it hadn’t been before. As she came close to take the baby from me I could smell her subtle perfume. Was that for me I wondered. I was beginning to get little fluttery feelings inside that I hadn’t had for a long, long time. “Stop it,” I told myself, she probably did that routinely and …. well, she was probably just a friendly mum with a hubby at home. No ring, I had already noticed, but then not everyone wore one.

After a few minutes baby let out a yell. “That’s definitely an, ‘I need a feed cry’,” she said, frantically trying to shush her. “Pass me the bag please.” She opened it and took a bottle of watery looking milk out of an insulated cool bag. “I'd normally feed her myself, but I thought that on a train, it might be overcrowded, so I expressed this last night. I’d better use it up. Could you go to the restaurant car and get it warmed for me; you probably know what temperature.”

I was back in a few minutes. “They wouldn’t warm it,” I said. “Can you believe that. Health and safety rules they say, they wouldn’t even give me a jug of hot water to do it myself.”

“Oh heck, I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not really dressed for feeding, but I can’t give her chilled milk.”

“I think you probably need to feed any way,” I said, making a little circle motion on my chest to indicate a growing damp patch on the right side of her blouse.

“Oh dear,” she said, “that’s always happening, as soon as she starts demanding, I start leaking like a sieve. It’s about the only thing that I find embarrassing.” She started to open the buttons of her blouse and looked up. “Do you mind.”

“Er..no,” I said, “I’ll just move down the isle, there are plenty of spare seats.”

“No, no, you’re okay, I wasn’t asking you to move, unless you want to, I meant do you mind. I’m used to feeding in public, I don’t have much choice in my job, though I’m normally more appropriately dressed for feeding than this. I made a special effort for my mum and dad who’re meeting me at the other end.” They were very conventional, she explained, almost as an excuse. With that she unhooked her bra cup and pulled out a soaked pad. She was completely un-self conscious, as she reached across to dispose of it in a plastic bag, with her whole swollen breast exposed. She expertly manoeuvred the baby to her nipple and started feeding. “There, that’s better,” she cooed, as the baby sucked audibly.

What memories that brought back. Lindy had breast fed all three of ours for six months at least, and Robert, our youngest, for more than a year. She hadn’t wanted to give up I remembered. Would I ever get over the loss of her from my life? I was still in pain two years on. I felt a guilty looking at Jenny’s swollen breast and simultaneously thinking of Lindy.

Jenny seemed remarkably self confident, not at all self-conscious, so I just watched as nature happened in front of me. Despite having said that she had fed two hours before, which was more like three hours by now, she was more than a little engorged, and light blue veins stood out against her very white skin. The whole picture was so natural and very beautiful, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. She looked up and smiled. My heart made a little flip, oh she was pretty.

“I used to try covering up, like all good decent mums are supposed too apparently,” she explained, “but Beth hates being covered and keeps unlatching, so I thought sod it, and I just do what comes naturally. I’m not an exhibitionist, an earth mother or anything like that, but I just refuse to hide away. I think that I’m influenced by what I’ve experienced living amongst more enlightened cultures around the world with my parents. My dad was in the Army, and we lived abroad at least half the time. I don’t have any problems, surprisingly, after all the horror stories I heard and read about when I was pregnant. I’ve only had one real objector, and that was an old woman!”

She went on to say that she had gone back to work very early, because in her line of work it wasn’t a matter of how much maternity leave you were allowed, but if someone else took over your job they might be a better writer than you and take over permanently. She was semi self employed, whatever that meant, writing women’s and society columns for a local newspaper I’d only vaguely heard of, spending half her time out interviewing people, and half time in the office.

Her conversation was interrupted when Beth jerked her head back off the nipple as he train passed through a short tunnel, causing the light to flash from light to dark and back again. Before Jenny could react, her nipple sprayed a stream of milk right across the table between us, almost reaching my jacket.

“Oops, oops, sorry,” she said, clamping the baby back against her breast to stop the flow. "That’s another thing, I’m bit of an over producer. It’s happened in the office once or twice when there’s a sharp noise, like when someone drops something.”

Completely un-phased, I picked a baby wipe out of a packet in the top of her bag, and calmly wiped the drops of milk off the surface. “Let-down, could have been worse,” I said, “My wife once had the same thing happen in a restaurant and sprayed milk all over a friends Pizza.”

Jenny laughed, glad that I had lightened the moment. “Oh dear, what did they say?”

Nothing, we hadn’t started eating, so I swapped mine for his and ate it.” We were very good friends, and it made a good story at parties later, though not always to Lindy’s approval. That’s my wife, Belinda,” I added filling an awkward pause, “You were telling me about your job, and feeding in the office.”

“Well, not much to tell about the job really, except that I’m exceptionally good at it. The editor was very pleased that I only took a month off before, and a month after, for this little complication,” she said, looking lovingly down at the noisy little feeder. “I’ve got no one to look after her, and she’s too young for ‘day care’, so she comes everywhere with me. That’s the joy of having milk on tap, I couldn’t be bothered with all that mixing and warming. It has its problems as you just found out.”

“I’ve actually written a couple of articles on breastfeeding for the paper, from research and theory of course, up to now, to counter the one occasion when a woman is criticised or abused feeding in public. It makes the headlines and the reaction is ridiculously over the top. You know the sort of thing; there’s a late night assault and suddenly every second man on the street is a rapist. So if I go on about breastfeeding a bit you’ll have to excuse me, I now have to practice what I preach.”

“When I’m out interviewing I usually manage to fit the feeds around them, though there have been a couple of times when it hasn’t worked out, and I’ve had to feed Beth at the same time. Actually it hasn’t been a problem at all, I’ve been amazed at peoples understanding and generosity. Normally I take notes, because it’s seen as being more personal, but for those I had to use my smart phone as a recorder.”

“On one of those occasions I was interviewing a well known actor at his home, but when I arrived he had to delay it due to some video conferencing with his agent. His wife volunteered to look after Beth, but due to the delay it was already past her feed time and she played up. I apologised profusely, and thought I’d lost the interview, because he had already said that he was off to America almost immediately. I nervously said that I would feed at the same time if he didn’t mind, and he agreed, though I think that he was expecting a bottle, and got a big surprise when I lifted my jumper and undid my bra.”

“His wife stayed with us, and she was lovely, and smoothed everything over. We soon became comfortable about the situation, and the interview was really successful. In one pause Beth made some little mini farting noises and we all had a good laugh.”

"He left for his flight and his wife asked me to stay for a cup of tea, which was great because I managed to get some really useful background information. I knew from my pre interview research that they were childless, and IVF hadn’t worked; that was her real reason for keeping me talking.

“It was a bit awkward in the office at first,” she laughed at the memory. “There’s only one other woman, Frankie, and the other five are young men, in addition to the editor, who’s near retirement; they were all far more embarrassed than I was. Our office is quite small and all open plan, with just a couple of easy chairs next to the coffee machine, so I fed Beth there. There was the loo, but I certainly wasn’t hiding away in there. Whenever anyone came to the machine I didn’t cover up, because as I said, she wouldn’t feed like that, so I put my head down, so that if they looked I wouldn’t embarrass them.”

Then she told me that one day when the editor was off sick and she was feeding in the corner, she got a bit fed up with the skulking as every male suddenly decided to make themselves a coffee. So she got up, baby still on her breast, walked to the centre of the office floor and to a stunned audience said, “Look guys, lets get over this, I’m breastfeeding and some of you obviously want to look, because the coffee consumption has doubled in the last couple of weeks.” There was an embarrassed snigger from somewhere at the back. “I’m not bothered if you look, you can come and sit with me if you like; this is a baby, these are breasts and that’s what we do. Lets get over it and not let it affect our work, otherwise Jack (the editor) will blame me.”

There was a stunned silence, then to my surprise Frankie said, "Good for you love. Well said. Come on. Let's all get on, we’ve got a deadline to keep.”

After that the atmosphere had relaxed considerably she told me. No one did sit with her, she assumed because they were embarrassed with each other rather than her. One of the men, the only married one, did take an interest and said to her one day when all the rest of the staff had left, that he thought the feeding was lovely, and confided that his wife wouldn’t let him anywhere near her when their baby was young. Then she went straight for the bottle option, he had said, barely hiding his disappointment.

“Do you realise,” Jenny said, almost as if she was surprised by her own revelation, “We only met a few hours ago and in that time you’ve held my baby, watched me breastfeeding, shared intimate moments, and told revealing stories of our lives. How weird is that… I know, you must be a councillor, or a psychologist.”

“No, nothing like that,” I said. “Is that your three tries finished?” She nodded, so I told her that I was a consultant engineer working in the oil industry, based in London but visiting Aberdeen, the oil capital, every quarter. Not very exciting, but lucrative. “I certainly don’t have interesting stories to regale you with, as you’ve just done to me.”

“I’d be polite and say that your job was interesting,” she said, “but I don’t know much about the oil industry, despite my parents living only an hour away from Aberdeen.”

“Come on beautiful, I think it’s time to change sides,” she said to the baby. To me she said "This little one has a habit of going to sleep half way through, and leaving me lopsided. There I go again, I can’t even imagine saying that to a near stranger, it must be the affect you have on me.” She fastened one cup and opened the other, exposing a breast with an already dripping nipple as she disposed of the pad.

She looked up and saw me smiling. "What?” she said.

“Sorry, I was just reminiscing in my mind, I didn’t realise that I was smiling. It’s nothing, well, I can’t tell you, it’ a bit too personal, there’s intimate and there’s intimate, it might offend you.”

Jenny was silent for a minute, but I could see the grin on her face. “Go on,’” she said, “I’ve told you things; it was what I said about being lopsided wasn’t it; was that funny?”

After a long deliberate pregnant silence, (deliberate on her part) I gave in. “Yes it was,” I said. ‘When Ellie was a baby she used to do the same thing as Beth, she’d completely empty one side and not want the other, but when I was around it was never a problem, if you see what I mean. Sometimes I think that Lindy did it deliberately for me; It made us very close.” I hoped that I had kept my words vague enough not to cause offence, but she had asked.

Jenny had her head down looking at the baby, so I couldn’t see her reaction. I suspected that it might have been a revelation too far.

She looked up, slightly flushed and said, “but that’s wonderful, how lovely. I’m sorry that I made you reveal that, but thank you. Actually the subject did come up once at my antenatal clinic, but the midwife tried to brush over it rather too quickly. Then one of the prospective mums said out loud, ”My sister feeds her hubby all the time, they love it. She says its like having twins sometimes, and it means hubby treats her like a queen, he’d do anything for her.”

“I bet that prompted a lot of reaction,” I said.

“Well yes it did, especially as the woman who said it was by far the most sophisticated, fashionable and beautiful in the room by far. I was envious because her maternity dress was gorgeous; it must have cost a fortune, and wasn’t bought in any high street store. That, and her obvious self-confidence seemed to add huge weight to what she had said. The midwife blustered, and one of the women said ‘disgusting’! But although there were some red faces, most of the rest were obviously interested, though they tried not to show it.”

Because I had researched breastfeeding in depth for my articles, though some of the Internet stuff is a bit unsavoury, I actually know a lot about extended feeding of infants and adults. I tried to support Mrs P, ‘posh’, as I had already named her in my mind. I said, “Actually in some more enlightened cultures it’s quite common for…."

“Well that’s enough on that subject,” the midwife said, cutting me dead. “Now who knows what effect epidurals have?”

As we left at the end of the class Mrs. P came up to me, and thanked me for my attempted support. She said, “What a bloody prude, she needs to get real, tits are for having fun with as well as being functional aren’t they?” I was a bit taken aback, but it was more of a statement, which didn’t need an answer. What was interesting however, was that there was a huddle of girls chatting with Mrs. P in the car park afterwards. By their friendly demeanour I guessed that they were trying to get a bit more information.

“She drove away in her Porsche and I never saw her again at the clinic, which was probably much to the midwife’s relief. A couple of the prospective mums did make a nuisance of themselves at the next meeting, teasing her by continually raising the subject. Anyway I think she was probably on commission to promote a brand of formula milk, because she kept handing out free sample packs of the stuff at the close of each session. I told her, not too politely, to ‘stuff the stuff’.”

She busied herself finishing the feed. Beth was asleep but still attached. “Now my little limpet, will you please let go you’re hurting me.” Jenny said in a light hearted cajoling manner. “When she goes to sleep on my breast, she seems to sort of lock her jaw, I don’t know if it’s normal. Seriously now, Ow!”

“Try putting your little finger in the side… oh sorry, you know all that don’t you. Shut up Max,” I said, more to myself.

“Yes I tried that but she tends to wake up.” Beth came off with an audible ‘plop’ exposing a big distended, almost ruby red nipple, which Jenny made no attempt to cover as she reached for a new paper bra pad. Then she said, “Want to burp her?” She passed her to me along with a little towel, which I automatically draped over my shoulder.

"Something’s you never forget," she said patting her own shoulder, and only then did she begin putting her breast away. This girl has so much self confidence I thought, amazing self confidence, with her body, her speech, demeanour, everything. Beth rewarded me with a series of little burps, followed by a dribble of milky sick. I held her for a while, and to be honest I was reluctant to give her back.

I think Jenny sensed what I was feeling. “I can see the love. Is it babies in general, or memories of your own,” she asked.

“Bit of both, I suppose, but this one is very beautiful. Beautiful mum, beautiful daughter, eh,” I said to the baby. “Father must be handsome as well.’”

“Oh dear, we’ve been very open with each other,” Jenny said, “so I should have told you by now, there isn’t a father, well not any more...," she tailed off.

“I may not be good at guessing occupations,” I said, “but actually I had figured that one out for myself from your anti-men attitude earlier, and little things you’ve said, or haven’t said since. Just as you said you can see my love, equally I can see your hurt. Please, don’t tell me unless you really want to.”

She obviously did want to unburden herself, because she immediately launched into a somewhat angry explanation.

“I’ve got a house in Camden; dad and I bought half each, as an investment, but the half mortgage, rates and running costs mean that I have to rent out the lower half. My long-term boyfriend lived with me, and two girls shared the ground floor. To cut a long story short (I sensed that this was very painful) we got engaged and I fell pregnant, not planned or unplanned really, but I thought that we were both happy. Then it turned into a disaster.”

“I was over seven months, and one day my morning interview appointment was unexpectedly cancelled. I would normally have gone to the office, but it was near the end of a long week, and I was tired, so I went home. Even as I opened the door I could hear the grunting, and there they were, excuse my language, screwing like rabbits. I mean literally, on the floor on all fours, they were making so much noise that they didn’t even hear me come in. Him, (she never once mentioned his name) and the quiet mousy little one from downstairs.”

“I won’t go into detail, but I exploded, and it got very messy. I’ve got quite a temper, and they got every bit of wrath I had. He pleaded that it was a mistake and only the once, but the girl’s flat mate told me later that they had been at it for at least six months. In other words, as soon as I fell pregnant. That hurt the most I think. I should have known really because he had hardly touched me in that time. I kicked them all out, even the innocent one, because she hadn’t told me sooner, which was unfair of me in hindsight.”

“He’s called me several times, but there’s no way I could ever forgive that. He even said to me once “We never ever did it in our bed,” as if that was an excuse or made it less horrible. “I got really down and stressed, that’s why I had Beth prematurely they told me. The only good thing, except for giving birth to a healthy if premature baby, was that it was easy, she was so small, only four and a half pounds. She almost popped out, I was only in labour for, I don’t know how long exactly, but they said it was the quickest birth they’d had for months.”

I thought of all the pain and suffering that my poor Lindy had suffered with our three. Seemed so long ago now.

Jenny slumped back into her seat as if exhausted, and we sat silently, hurt etched on her face and tears in her eyes. I was glad that I was still holding the baby, who was fast asleep, because Jenny’s tension and anger would certainly have been transmitted to her. I reached across and put Beth down in her cot.

I don’t know how long we sat like that, but a steward came along and offered snacks and drinks, (one of the first class benefits I hadn’t figured on) so Jenny had to perk up. Over food and drink she got back to normal. She put her hand on mine and said, “Sorry.”

I squeezed her hand in reply, and she left it there for a few seconds longer than I had expected. The flutters in my heart multiplied.

We chatted away until we reached Edinburgh, where we had to change trains. I realised that I hadn’t done any work as intended. But did I care? I would work all night in the hotel if necessary. First class was a bit busier on this two hour leg but we still had peace and privacy.

Jenny was tired and started nodding. “Oops,” she said , “How rude am I, I’m so tired with all this travelling, if I drop off look after Beth and make sure you wake me half an hour before we get there, because I need to feed her again before I meet mum and dad. I’m sure you won’t forget that, she said smiling. She fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

I didn’t mind at all. What more could a man want. Two beautiful girls to study at leisure. For a moment I almost forgot my own family. I felt a bit of a traitor. I took out my laptop and did an hours work, but I couldn’t help looking up at Jenny occasionally. Even asleep with her mouth slightly open she looked so pretty, and my heart fluttered again as I thought about what a paradox of characters this young woman had. Anti adult, but loving to baby; sharp but soft underneath; independent, but needy of love; feisty but feminine. Oh yes, very feminine.

I didn’t need to wake her because Beth did it for me. She fed her and changed her nappy, which I disposed off just as we were pulling in to the station. As we walked up the platform an odd tone started buzzing, which turned out to be Jenny’s mobile. She said, “Okay Mum, soon as you can then, I don’t want to keep the baby out in the cold too long, I’d forgotten how cold it gets up here, bye. Mum and dad are stuck in traffic, so they may be a bit late.”

Just then I saw a uniformed chauffer, holding a card displaying my name. Oh no, they’d booked a Limmo, why couldn’t they let me get a taxi, the hotel was only ten minutes away. ”Mr. Cunningham,” he said as I approached, “I couldn’t get in here,” motioning his hand to indicate the internal full taxi rank and parking spaces.

We walked outside where a big Merc sat waiting, so I said, “This young lady's lift is late. Settle them in the car out of the cold please whilst I sort out the luggage.” Jenny was grateful and settled in the car, chatting easily with the chauffer. So confident and self assured I thought, as I stood outside looking for an ancient Rover 90, which Jenny had described as her father's car. About ten minutes later I saw it further down the street, so I waved it in.

Jenny’s father was the original Colonel Blimp, complete with flourishing moustache, and her mother looked old fashioned and downtrodden. My first thought was, how had these retro style people handled Jenny’s unexpected, and now fatherless pregnancy. Neither fussed over the baby I noticed. I tried to hold back out of the way, hoping that Jenny wouldn’t be required to explain my involvement. What a situation, I felt sorry for her, realising that she was going through the motions of doing her duty to her parents. The car was packed, and I gave Jenny a little wave as I turned for my car. I felt sick. That would be the last I’d see of that lovely girl, I thought as I ached inside.

I heard her call, and turned to see her walking towards me. I was rooted to the spot. She came in close, took both of my hands in hers and lifted onto her toes to kiss me on the cheek. Then she leant right back, as if to look at me from a distance. At arms length she tried to smile and said, “Thanks Max. you really have renewed my faith in men. Tears were flooding her eyes. ”Bye.”

I watched her get in the car, and found myself wondering how she would explain that little episode to her dour parents. I felt dreadful as I slumped into the back seat of the car. Would she have given me her mobile number if I had asked. How stupid, oh hell.

“You okay, Sir?” the chauffer asked politely.  “You look as if you’ve just lost a fortune.” Much more than a fortune thought to myself! “The lady left this for you,” and he gave me a little plastic bag with something paper inside. “Made me promise not to give it to you until she’d gone. Sorry, she said it was important, but made me promise. Quite a lady.”

I could feel my heart thumping in my chest as I switched on the overhead light and took out the paper. A breast pad! A paper breast pad, with tiny writing that I could hardly read! I deciphered ‘Only paper I had. Another time, another place, who knows! Jenny. PTO. I turned it over and there was a London landline number, and underneath, ‘In case’.

I managed to get through the meetings and returned home in a daze. Sue instinctively knew there was something wrong but didn’t press it. Throughout the week I agonised and suffered, wrapping myself in my lovely family. I took the little paper pad out of my wallet several times, thinking of that lovely girl, and just as often cried over the memory of my beautiful Lindy as I held her photo to my chest. How could I betray her!

Two more weeks passed and there was no improvement. The boys were ok, but Ellie knew there was something badly wrong, and came to me often for cuddles. I had to talk to Sue. I rang her and asked if I could come over. I left Ellie in charge; sod the legalities, she was more than capable, and I was only ten minutes away if she needed me.

As soon as Sue saw me she said, “What’s happened Max, you came back from Scotland like this, I knew there was something troubling you but I didn’t dare ask.” We had a long hug, and then I told her everything that had happened with Jenny and Bethany on that long, potentially life changing train journey North. Every last detail, except that the note was written on a breast pad, that seemed an intimacy too far. I told her how guilty I felt about Lindy, and how my emotions were swinging backwards and forwards. I wondered what her reaction would be, remembering the absolute devastation the loss of her only daughter had caused two years before. I knew that she had, and still was, suffering as much as I was.

She held my hand in both of hers. “Max, are you sure your emotions weren’t swayed by the baby or the breastfeeding, I know how close you and Belinda were over that: you don’t think that perhaps you had an overwhelming need just to care for them. I know how much you loved my daughter. I will always love you for that, but she’s not coming back, and she wouldn’t have wanted you to suffer these agonies. It’s been two years. Belinda used to tell me often that it was love at first sight for both of you. You only knew this girl for eight or nine hours. Was it anything like that with her?”

I managed a half smile, as I thought of our inauspicious first encounter on the station platform at Kings Cross. “No, not exactly,” I said. “Maybe second sight, but within a couple of hours I had that fluttery feeling inside, you know.”

“Well then, not that you need it, but you have my absolute blessing you lovely man. Phone her before she forgets you and finds some one else. She sounds lovely. I hope it comes to something, because I’d love to meet her…  and the baby, Beth, was it?”

That blessing meant everything to me, Sue was my final hurdle. As soon as I got home I dialled the number with shaking hands, full of trepidation. The phone rang for ages, then, ….. a man answered! Oh hell. My heart dived. Had he, the fiancé, come back? She had said ‘never’.

“I… I hoped to speak to Jenny,” I blurted. “Never mind,” and I nearly disconnected.

“Hang on, hang on,” the voice said. “Are you Max by any chance?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got a message for you, I’m the new downstairs lodger by the way; pain of death if I don’t give it to you, she said. Where is it? It was here yesterday. I think she’s thrown it away; she must have given up on you. Anyway, she frightens me, so I memorised it. Basically it said if you call, to get your number. She was very insistent.”

Zoom! My heart zoomed. I gave him my home number and waited for him to find a pen and write it down. “You haven’t got her mobile by any chance have you?”

“Yes, but she said it was only for emergencies. She’s went to the gym with her baby about an hour ago, seems to go there nearly every day. Working out her anger I think. She always seems so miserable.”

“Give it to me,” I commanded. “Pain of death remember, if she doesn’t, I will. Give me the number.” He gave it to me and I put it straight into my phone. Poor bloke. “Thanks. Might meet you someday, and I’m nowhere near as intimidating as Jenny by the way.”

I texted her. ‘Jenny its Max, how are you?’

Immediate reply. ‘O Max, fine now. r u in London. Pse can we meet. Now. Today. Pse, need an hour to change. J

‘South entry, Clapham Common 2 hrs’  I replied, remembering that she had said she walked there often.

I dashed across London, as excited as my kids on Christmas day. I waited outside the venue in the warm spring sunshine thinking, why did we text, why didn’t we just talk. Daft. I hardly recognised her as she came round the corner wearing a smart blue wool dress, which accentuated her bust, and high heels, pushing her buggy. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and I had been right about the baby fat, ‘mummy tummy’ or whatever they called it. Just in the last three weeks she had lost most of it, and she had a lovely figure. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. My heart was fit to burst. First, second, or third sight, this was love all right.

She put the brake on the buggy, and as I moved towards her she threw herself into my arms. We nearly knocked the wind out of each other. She held my cheek hard against hers, so the only thing left for me to kiss was her neck. I could feel her lovely body pressed hard against mine, all the way from knee to breast as if she was trying to get inside me. This was our first proper physical contact and I shall remember it forever. She clung to me like a Limpet for ages, her body shuddering as she sobbed.

I kissed her neck as she cried. “Love you, love you, love you,”  over and over again, “I thought you weren’t going to call and I’d lost you. Love you Max.”

What a contrast to our first meeting....