'Oh!' Sigourney gasps, putting a hand to her reddening cheek. 'You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!'

She tries to pull Jen's hair, but Jen grabs her wrists.

'I'll take you down,' Jen shouts. 'Don't think I won't! Just because you're taller than me doesn't mean-'

'Hey,' says Leo. 'Let's just cool it, okay?'

He tries to step between them, but Baz grabs his shoulder.

'Don't you f.u.c.king touch her,' Baz aims a punch at Leo's jaw, but Marc grabs Baz's fist.

'Don't,' says Marc.

Baz turns to Marc, furious. 'Out of the way Marky boy. I won't let a man touch my girl.'

'He's stopping Sigourney making a fool of herself,' Marc growls. 'Now back off.'

'No, YOU back off,' Baz yells. 'Or I'll tell Sophia what you're hiding. Every f.u.c.king bit of it.'

I see Marc's fingers tighten on Baz's fist.

'What's the matter?' says Baz. 'Cat got your tongue?'

'Calm yourself down. Take Sigourney home.'

'Don't you hurt Baz!' Sigourney screams. 'Don't you dare hurt him!'

Baz looks as bewildered as everyone else.

'What do you care?' Baz says. 'You were ready to take the sound man home five minutes ago.'

'I do f.u.c.king care,' says Sigourney. 'That's the whole problem isn't it? Don't you get it?'

Baz laughs. 'Not really.'

Sigourney pulls Baz away from Marc. 'Come on. Let's get a taxi back to your place. I'll give you the most amazing b.l.o.w. .j.o.b-'

'No you won't. You'll get in my bed and fall asleep. And in the morning I'm taking you to AA. And maybe we can make a go of this.' Baz slings Sigourney's arm around his shoulder and half carries, half drags her away.

Everyone is watching them, but I'm watching Marc.

I feel sick to my stomach.

What does Baz know that I don't? What secret is Marc hiding from me, his pregnant wife? How can Baz know something I don't? And why was Marc on set and then lied about it?

'Sophia-' Marc's arm comes around my shoulder.

I shake it off. 'We need to talk.'

Marc frowns. 'Not here.'

'Then let's go home.'

'Agreed.'

As we say out goodbyes, Nadia comes hurrying over.

'Sophia! You're leaving already? You didn't even try the paella.'

'Um ... sorry,' I mutter. 'Marc and I have things we need to talk about.'

'Everything okay?' Nadia asks.

'Fine,' says Marc curtly.

'And you Sophia?' Nadia asks. 'How are you feeling?'

I give her a tired smile.

'That good huh?' Nadia puts a hand on my shoulder. 'So listen Marc you take care of her all right? And send me pictures of the baby.'

'I always take care of her.'

'And Sophia anything you need, just call me okay? I want to know baby news. And any other news.' She looks at me meaningfully. 'Listen take some paella. Please.' She waves at a waiter. 'Box some of this up for Sophia and Marc. They haven't even tried it yet.'

'Thanks Nadia.'

'Listen, I'm serious you know. Anytime you need to talk. Just call.'

73.

In the limo, Marc and I sit in silence.

I'm waiting for Marc to explain. To tell me what Baz was talking about, but instead he looks out the car window, a finger of concentration on his lips.

As the car reaches the townhouse, Marc hasn't said a word to me. He's still frowning.

I put my hands to my pregnant stomach.

'Marc? Are we going to talk about what Baz said?'

The frown leaves Marc's face. 'Sophia, do you trust that I always want the best for you?'

'Yes,' I say, without hesitation.

'If I told you to forget what Baz said, could you do it?'

'I'm not sure.'

'Could you try?'

'I suppose I could. Marc-'

He takes my hand and squeezes it between his palms. 'I will always protect you, Sophia. Always. Okay?'

'Okay,' I say, managing a smile. But I'm not really okay. I'm afraid. Afraid that Marc has some horrible secret. And that if I find it out, it will tear my perfect life apart.

After the filming finishes, Marc and I move back to our house in the country.

I've missed our horses, and spend plenty of time spoiling them and feeding them Fruit Mentos their favourite treat.

Of course, Marc won't let me ride. Not that I would anyway. I'm way too scared of hurting our baby. But it's good to be around the horses, talking to them and brushing their glossy coats.

Marc hired a stable boy while we were in London, so I know the horses have been well looked after. But I still think they're pleased to see us home.

I've kind of managed to forget about the party. Although it still plays on my mind sometimes, if I let myself think too much. But I've decided to trust Marc and try and let it go. Have patience and let him tell me what's going on at the right time.

'Do you think our child will ride?' I ask Marc, during a visit to the stables.

'Yes. All our children will ride. Why do you think I bought a house with such large stables? There's room for all their horses and ponies, as well as ours.'

'Oh so it's children now?' I say, grinning. 'How many children were you planning on exactly?'

'At least a dozen,' Marc raises a quirky eyebrow.

'A dozen? There's room for a dozen horses here?'

'Ample room. Let me show you.'

Marc leads me over straw and mud. I'm wearing Ugg boots and skinny maternity jeans, teamed with a navy-blue wool maternity coat.

Marc keeps a firm grasp on my arm as I wobble and slip.

'Careful now.'

'It's impossible to be careful. I'm as big as a tank. I'm not sure I can stand another month of this how much bigger am I going to get?'

'Big is beautiful. It means our baby is healthy.'

Marc creaks open a stable door. 'Our child's first pony will live here. What do you think?'

I look at the clean, tidy stable with hay bales stacked up in the corner.

'Perfect.'

Suddenly, I feel the baby kick.

'Marc.' I put his hand to my stomach.

'He knows we're talking about his pony,' says Marc.

'He again?'

Marc is so sure the baby is a boy. He keeps talking about all the fishing and hunting they'll do in the woods. And how he'll teach his son to fight.

I keep telling him he can't possibly know the s.e.x. But he's so certain. Apparently, every Blackwell first-born is a boy.

'It could be her pony,' I point out.

Marc gives me that smile the one that makes me warm all over. 'Talking back to your husband Mrs Blackwell? You know, I'm still more than willing to discipline you. Even in your current condition.'

'Oh really?'

'Really. If you weren't heavily pregnant, I'd strip you naked and lean you over that hale bale right now.'

I raise a teasing eyebrow. 'I love the outdoors.'

'Stop it,' says Marc firmly.

'Stop what?' I say innocently.

'You know what.' Marc's lips tilt into a smile. 'Of course, there's always the tack room ...'

74.

The tack room, like the stables, is made of Swedish wood, but it's heated and has a proper door. It has cushioned cubes for sitting on while you pull on riding boots, and the walls are lined with bridles, reins and riding crops.

'The perfect place for discipline, don't you think?' says Marc, taking down a riding crop and swooshing it through the air. He lands the tip of the riding crop with a crack on his palm.

I watch the black stick, my heart beating fast.

'I asked you a question.'