Pop Goes the Weasel

99

It was late when Charlie got home. The clock read 11.15 p.m. and the house was quiet. There was no sign of -

‘Hello.’

Charlie jumped out of her skin as Steve’s voice rang out. She turned to find him sitting in darkness in the living room. She crossed the room, flicking on the lights. He frowned, offended by the harsh glare of the halogen.

‘I’ve been waiting for you for hours, but I guess you were working late.’

His tone was neutral and there was none of the bitterness Charlie had been expecting. Still, his even tone unnerved her. He sounded business-like.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked. She felt that something momentous – something bad? – was about to be said, but she was still so relieved that he had come home.

‘At Richard’s.’

His best friend. Charlie had called him when looking for Steve, and he had lied to her. She was not surprised.

‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I’ve come to a decision,’ Steve continued.

Charlie tensed, saying nothing.

‘I want to have a child, Charlie.’ Now it was his turn to sound upset. ‘I want a baby with you more than anything else in the world. But we can’t do that when you’re working like this, putting yourself in harm’s way every day. I can’t go there again. Do you understand?’

Charlie nodded.

‘I’m asking you to leave. So we can have the life we always wanted. And if you can’t do that, or won’t… then I don’t think I can stay.’

There it was. The ultimatum that had been coming for eighteen months.

This, then, was Marianne’s legacy.