He couldn't drive. He debated whether he was too drunk to walk and how long it would take him but decided to go anyway, with a little luck the fresh air might sober him up but leave him with a little bit of courage left over. Quite why he had brought the bottle with him then was a mystery. Perhaps it was because it gave him something to do with his hands more than anything else. Every step that took him closer to her became heavier and slower. He should have used the time to think what he was going to say to her, but it was too late for that now as he was at her door. There seemed to be nothing to say, nothing he could possibly say to atone for that afternoon.

His cheek still burned with the embarrassment of the insult he had delivered and the slap she had returned. He knocked remembering just in time to leave the bottle on the doorstep out of sight, he supposed it wouldn't look good. He was nervous and a large part of him was hoping that she wasn't in, or at least if she was then that she was already in bed or asleep and wouldn't come to the door. He waited with baited breath, until the sounds of movement from within the house could be heard.

No such luck then.

The door opened enough for him to catch a glimpse of her. Her face looked swollen and her eyes were red, a pang of guilt shot through him and he suddenly felt very self conscious. He could barely bring himself to look at her.

"Hi."

"Hi."

They stood awkwardly opposite each other for what seemed like an eternity. "What do you want Richard?"

"I don't really know..." He managed to pull himself together a little. "I...I came to say I'm sorry." He at least managed to look her in the eye for the apology. "I mean about before, what I said. It was horrible. I was so rude to you and it was unfair and cruel and you're right, I don't deserve to be a father. I'm sorry." His admission of guilt was met with a wall of silence and as the moments ticked by it was becoming increasingly obvious that she wasn't going to let him in. There was no reason why she should. He was an arse. He'd spent so long trying to prove that he wasn't and he'd failed at the last hurdle. His mouth twisted into a pitiful smile designed to try and show her that there were no hard feelings and he started backing away from the door.

"Is that all you wanted to say?"

"No, I um, thought we could talk, but I don't know if you want to do it another time."

"Why, do you think I'm going to sleep tonight?"

"I don't know. Probably not." She opened the door wider then turned her back on him indicating that he should follow her.

He took up a chair in the kitchen on the opposite side of the table to her. Confrontational to the last Poole he thought sullenly. Even this room was full of memories, seared forever into his consciousness. The intimate kitchen suppers that he preferred to the restaurants she had chosen where he could talk to her unfettered and unburdened by the thought that other people might be listening. The afternoon they had spent baking, never enjoying their creation because she had insisted on eating most of the mixture, resisting his entreaties for her to stop by wiping some on his nose, before he could take her teasing no more and had made love to her on the table. The feeling of being a family. A unit. One. He looked down and saw that his hand was palm down on the wood, seemingly trying to draw those particular memories out from the knots and joins beneath his skin.

Camille's voice brought him back to reality. "You're drunk."

He nodded, "yes."

"Is that what gave you the courage to come over here, the drink?"

"No of course not, I..." he seemed to realise that it was pointless to try and lie to her. "Yes, a little."

"Well at least you're still being honest." He sat staring at the table. "Do you still believe what you said this afternoon?"

"No."

"So you know that this is yours?" She caressed her abdomen with a light touch and for a moment Richard wished he was the type of man who had the confidence to believe her so he could do the same.

"I..."

"You still don't do you? You still think that I cheated on you."

"No I don't, I swear! It's just...hard to accept that this is what's happened.

"So you don't think I've cheated, but you don't think I'm carrying your child? Richard you're not making any sense. I don't understand why you won't talk to me!"

"I'm trying Camille! But you have no idea what this is like." He was still wrestling with trying to keep it inside, locked away, never to be discussed or aired. He took a deep breath. "I've been told for years that it's nigh on impossible for me to have a child. It's why I've been on my own for so long for Christ's sake! Why I pushed you away. How the hell could I have ever asked any woman to accept me like that, let alone you? I don't work properly. The entire existence of the human race is based on procreation and I can't do it. I can't pass on any of my genes to the next generation, and you know what, the longer I live with it the more I think it's probably a good thing, but I can't stop wanting it. I mean look at me. How could I have ever asked a woman to love me and only me?"

"Because I love you for you." Camille could only stare at him incredulously. "And if we had never had a baby then you would have been enough. You would always have been enough."

Richard had his head in his hands.

"No I wouldn't. Sooner or later you would have mentioned a fertility clinic, just to make sure, or IVF. I can't do any more tests Camille. There are only so many times a man can face being told he's infertile. And then you would have pretended that you were happy for about 6 months, all the while crossing your fingers hoping that something could happen, until you saw the last of your friends get married and start a family and then you would have come to the conclusion that I wasn't worth it. Just like everyone else."

Camille couldn't believe that he was finally being completely open with her, she had known only the bare minimum. She pressed gently for more information. "How long have you known?"

"Since university. Some friends and I thought it would be an easy way to get some extra cash donating; only they wouldn't take mine.

"It didn't really matter until later, you don't really think about it, or if you do you assume it won't be a problem anymore, that it'll sort itself out in time for when you need it. It gets to the point when you don't mention it the first time, until it's getting serious and then she thinks it's a good idea to have another test to confirm what you already know. There's no blame, you're both too young to deal with it, you move on.

"But the next one, the next one is hard, because you know for sure, and now you have to decide, do you tell her straight away? Do you wait for it to get serious then tell her? And she says it doesn't matter that you're still young, that there's plenty of time, but there isn't, not for her, at least she thinks there isn't. And all the time there are more tests, and you keep having to look her in the eye and tell her that it's never going to happen, watch her pin that ridiculous expression of false hope on her face as she tells you it's ok, that there's still time. And eventually she starts to think, well there's nothing wrong with me, why am I putting myself through all this stress when there's nothing wrong with me? And she comes to the conclusion that life doesn't have to be as hard as she is making it. She could be with a man who can give her children, 5 or 6 of them if she wants, and so you're consigned to the dustbin of history, never to be thought about. Then word gets around and no one will touch you anyway.

"Damaged goods, i think that's what people said. Soon it's easier just to stop trying rather than having the hassle of starting something new knowing it's never going to work." He had spent the entire time talking to the table, unaware that she had moved next to him, was shocked when he felt her touch his hand, a touch he had never expected to feel again after the way he had treated her. He ploughed on.

"And then you came along. I've never loved anyone like I love you and I tried to be honest, I tried to make you understand, and all this time I've just been waiting for you to realise that I'm no good to you. And I'm so sorry about what I said, I know I can't ever take it back."

They sat in silence, Camille still holding his hand. She hadn't realised the depth of his despair, his insecurity or his feeling of failure. She was beginning to understand his earlier outburst.

"You never told me this is how you felt."

"How could I? I just wanted one more chance Camille. One more chance at being with someone I love before it all has to stop and I'm on my own again. I'm sorry, it was selfish."

"Richard, you are the most selfless man I have ever met. The fact that you were honest with me right from the start about this proves that." She was at a loss how to console him. She decided that she wanted to be as honest with him as he had just been with her. "When you told me, before we were together the first time" she gave a small involuntary smile at the memory, "I can't pretend I wasn't upset. Of course I was. But I thought about what I wanted from life and I made the decision that I wanted to be with you because I had fallen in love with you and knew that you loved me too and that was the most wonderful feeling in the world. I knew that I would go through the rest of my life and never find that with anyone else. So I decided that nothing else mattered except you. And if, in the future you decided that you wanted to adopt or foster then I would be happy with that because I would still have you. You have always been enough for me and I'm glad that you took one more chance because without it I would never have found you."

He looked up and saw tears threatening to spill out over her cheeks. His heart finally and completely melted as he pulled her on to his lap, just as her defences gave way and she started sobbing. His arms encircled her, trying to tell her with actions what he couldn't say; that he loved her, would always love her, would always stay, would always look after her.

"Please don't cry Camille," his own tears were in danger of joining hers as he blinked them back. He hugged her face to his neck, feeling the tears flow against his skin and held her tight. In time her breathing became less laboured and she settled against him.

He had been holding her for so long that he hadn't noticed where his hand was resting. She reached for him and pressed her own over his holding it in position against her stomach. He was surprised by the complete normality of the situation. It was an action he had committed many times before but until now he had always associated it with longing more than reality. He stroked his fingers against the material of her shirt. Her abdomen felt the same as it always had, completely flat and toned. There was nothing there that could warrant any of the terror or self loathing that he had felt earlier that day. He smiled in spite of himself. Everything was suddenly very different. Just knowing she was his would have been enough after their revelations, but it didn't have to be anymore.

He had a family.