November 5th, 1970
Sylvia had called me on Monday afternoon with a development in her situation. I could hear the nervousness in her voice as she told me she’d made an appointment with a doctor in an Aberdeen clinic to have an abortion. Now, three days later, I was waiting for her to arrive at a cafe we’d chosen near the clinic. I had stepped into the small shop nearly forty minutes before the time we’d agreed on, so I could have a cup of tea and try to relax. My mind wandered to the conversation I had had with Cameron this morning. I was getting dressed after my shower when he walked into the bedroom and watched me. I must have looked how I felt, because he asked if I was alright. “It’s hard to keep up appearances,” I admitted. “Pretending to be happy.” Cameron put his arms around me and held me close to him. “Are you unhappy?” he asked me. ...