That weekend was the start of what would turn out to be a wonderful year of secret dates dotted around the country. Usually, we would meet in London, go for dinner, see a show and then make out in a hotel, but Eddie sometimes had a surprise in store and we would spend a weekend at the coast, in Bath or in Derbyshire. Eddie had the money and the experience to spoil me, and he did, splurging on jewellery and clothes for me, as well as introducing me to worlds that I would never otherwise have been exposed to. He got a thrill out of taking me to Royal Ascot, the ballet or to plays. Often things were beyond me, but he enjoyed explaining it all to me. Eddie mesmerized me with his energy, with his passion for life. But then I fell pregnant. I wanted our child so much, but Eddie insisted I get rid of it. I then realized that I was nothing but a toy for him. He kept his distance from me after the abortion. He'd gotten a scare. Meanwhile, I was hospitalized for depression. I had cut too deeply with a Stanley knife and had to have stitches in my stomach. I was lucky not to have bled to death, but it wasn't a suicide plea. I simply needed to let out all my pain and be swept up by the endorphin rush. Eddie didn't come to see me all the time I was in St. Hilda's. I never spoke to mum about the relationship with Eddie, but I know she knew. I had made the mistake of confiding in Carol about the abortion and she had spilled the beans to mum. Mum said Eddie had phoned her to see how I was doing, that he wanted me to know that he was tied up with work and that Janice was pregnant. I wanted to die when she told me that. Mum took my hand and said, "Men are all the same, Juliet. It would never have worked out, you know that. He needs to be with Janice now."
