I admit, it sounded, well, bad. But the truth was that I never really meant it quite the way it came out. The fact of the matter was that I wanted to comfort her; I could see how embarrassed the poor girl was and I wanted to reassure her that what had happened wasn't a problem for me. And in fact, in some way I did like her doing it. It's very unusual to find someone who knows how to touch a breast, especially after Sam who used to think treating them ala two orange halves being juiced was going to make the earth move for me. Mind you, he'd been an improvement himself, considering I was never really sure whether Michael was trying to turn me on or tune in a television when he went for my nipples… but that really is another story for another day. This isn't about them; it's about Martha.

Seeing the shock on her face, I gave her the explanation I've just given you, which, I'll be frank, was probably a mistake. In hindsight, if I'd not been drinking for the first time in months I might have worked that one out before I'd even opened my mouth, but at the time it seemed like a reasonable enough thing to say. Although possibly not as reasonable as the conclusion she reached as a result…

"You're gay?"

That made me laugh actually. I've never been accused of being gay before, and I wasn't really sure what to say in response. I mean yes, outright denial seemed like a good enough idea given the fact that I am not in fact gay but it was starting to become fairly obvious to me that following my ridiculous breast based outburst that Martha might find that hard to believe.

So instead, I did what has rather become my trademark in awkward and difficult circumstances that don't meet with my approval, and attempted to walk away.

"I should go." I rose from the sofa, picking up my handbag and heading for the door, but Martha was determined I was not about to leave without answering her question.

"So you are gay then?" Being younger and more agile than me she made it to the door first and stood in front of it, barring my way.

I shook my head, suddenly too tired and drained to want to enter into any kind of debate about my alternative sexuality, or not as the case may be. I hoped this would appease her but she remained standing in the doorway, an obstinate look on her face that made her look so much like Gina that I found myself wanting to burst into tears for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"What the hell was all that about then?"

"I don't know." I tried to ignore the lump rising in my throat that was threatening to choke me completely, "I've got no bloody idea." I suddenly felt like I was back on Darwin, facing up to Sam, drowning in a situation that I could neither cope with or control. I wanted to give her answers; just as I had him, but the truth was that in each case they were answers that the other party just wouldn't want to hear. Tears began to slide down my cheeks then and there was nothing in the world I could do to stop them,

"I just don't know Martha."