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The thought of being a dad didn’t scare me. Thirty-three would have been a good age.
But, becoming a mother clearly worried Danielle. Or, was it me becoming a father
that alarmed her? Perhaps I wasn’t the father. Was this the cause of her worry?
The more I thought about it, the more I was troubled by the thought of Danielle being
a mother - particularly of a child of mine. Was this a reflection of her, or a reflection
of us? We’d grown dull together. That is no environment for a child - I know that
for sure. Had Danielle realised this and found herself a more suitable partner? Could
I do the same? Whatever the answers and whatever her motive, one thing was sure:
I wasn’t very happy.
