I lost my virginity – well, we both did – one cold January night soon after my 16th birthday. I would love to say it was a beautiful moment, but we were in the girls' shelter of the local national school. To avoid prying eyes, all us young couples would crowd together in the upper girls' shelter.
We would lie on a long wooden bench that ran the length of the shelter. We'd kiss, fumble and cuddle to keep warm.
That night I was wearing a mini-skirt, topped by my camel coat, which, being only an inch longer than the skirt, didn't stop my legs from going blue with the cold. We rolled off the seat and, before I knew it, Jumbo was on top of me and my knickers and tights were in a tangle round my knees.
Neither of us knew what to do. Penetration was quick and painful. My main memory is of the smell of pee rising from the cold concrete floor. I was terrified I would vomit before Jumbo had finished. I wondered what all the fuss to do with sex was about, but afterwards Jumbo said, 'That was great, Marie.'
It was a while before it dawned on me that something might be wrong. I woke one morning with a jolt, and realised that I hadn't had a period for a few months, and I was always regular. But surely I couldn't be pregnant? Not after one bloody time.