Autobiography

‘I’m sorry, cheri,’ she sobbed, ‘my life is falling
apart. I can’t go on with this anymore. I’m
pregnant, and I can’t see you again. I hate
myself for doing this but I can’t see any other
way. I must try and make my marriage work.’
She cried uncontrollably as she spoke a few
words of French before saying, ‘the last year
has been the most wonderful time in my life. I
love you. Goodbye, cheri’ and the phone went
dead.
I was devastated. The phone call took only a
few minutes and she told me for the first time
she loved me, but I still hadn’t told her. How I
wished that I had done so when we were in the
park. Questions spun around my head. Will she
ring me again? Will I ever see her again? How
can I find her? Where would I start? And then
it struck me what she had said - she was
pregnant.
Surely, I thought, the baby’s not mine, it can’t
be, I had always worn a condom … except just
that once. I went back to East India Dock
Road. There were two apartments at the
address and I rang both bells, but sadly there
was no reply from either. I rang the telephone
number at the flat a couple of times a day,
every day, and I eventually got through. The
woman on the end of the phone said it was a
furnished apartment and she was kind enough
to give me the telephone number of the letting
agent.
I immediately called the agency hoping that
they would be able to give me Ann-Marie’s
forwarding address, but my hopes were
185