eyes never leaving hers. Her heart started to pound. If ever James opened a conversation with her name, she knew that whatever it was she hoped would happen, wouldn’t.
‘Calli,’ he said again and lifted the wine to his lips; he took a sip then replaced the glass on the table, as if in slow motion, before speaking again. ‘I had believed, and correct me if I am wrong’ – his voice an octave lower than usual – ‘I had believed,’ he repeated, his eyes never leaving hers, ‘that you and I have always been on the same page when it came to the issue of parenthood.’ He paused for a second before going on. ‘We, Calli, and by that I mean you and me, not just one of us but both of us, have never wanted to go down that path in life. Correct? Or not?’
The shock of his response made the blood rush to Calli’s head; she was lost for words. This pompous side of James was his least endearing characteristic in her view and the last thing she had expected from him that night. She had observed it at times, but if it was ever directed at her she would cut him short; he knew well enough how she felt about it. He could be quite petulant and difficult and occasionally a little controlling, which Calli put down to his job as a barrister – in her opinion it gave him an air of haughtiness that got on her nerves.
‘Yes, James.’ She struggled to steady her voice. ‘That is correct, but life is fluid and beliefs and feelings can change over the years.’ She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then continued. ‘And please do not patronize me or try to intimidate me, you’re not in court now.’
She reached for her glass, trying to remain calm before speaking again. ‘The thing is, James, if you were actually listening to what I was trying to tell you, you would have realized that my feelings right now are in transition, which means I don’t know exactly what I want or feel.’ Calli leaned forward to face him directly, disappointment evident on her face. ‘What I had expected from you was respect . . . not this! I expected that you love me enough to engage in a conversation about how I feel and what I think, not just dismiss me without any discussion. We are not children anymore, James, we are grown-ups and that’s what adults do. We discuss things.’
‘I’m sorry, Calli’ – his voice was hard – ‘I am not open to discussion where this matter is concerned.’ His words were directed at her with breathtaking finality. She sat motionless, letting them hang in the air as she tried to take in what he had said. Neither of them spoke for a long while. Then, slowly, Calli stood up from the table, turned around and silently walked out of the kitchen.
That night she slept in the spare room. She needed time to digest what she had heard and wanted her fury to subside before resuming any form of conversation with him. She had never been a woman given to impulses, huge confrontations or hysterics. Throwing crockery and heavy objects around the room at each other was never their way as a couple, although they knew others who had violent arguments on a regular basis. But that night Calli feared that if she hadn’t removed herself from James’s presence, he would have run the risk of having a ramekin land on his head.
The next day, sitting at her desk and still brooding about the night before, Calli started to reflect. As she had expected, her fury did subside by morning; she could never sustain anger for too long. Even so, every time she remembered James’s harsh words a wave of resentment washed over her. But then the part of her that always tried to give everyone the benefit of the doubt took over and she began to look for reasons to justify his behaviour. Perhaps, she reflected, these things took time. She might have been thinking about babies lately and ruminating and obsessing about her body and the future, but he hadn’t reached that stage. Surely with time he would be willing to discuss the subject. She had just caught him off-guard with her unexpected change of mind. She always thought that James could be a little immature at times and, like a child, she needed to