49. "We're Even, Kiddo"
Having been brought up in a family that never hid its aversion for the cigarette, it would never have occurred to me that this tiny object for which I bore a vehement dislike, and which my parents had strictly forbidden in our house, with interminable warnings about its detrimental effects, would play such a fortuitous role in reinforcing the bond between Martin and myself, and intensifying our love. Martin smoked, not heavily, but it was the only thing about him that I wished had been otherwise. Seeking to circumscribe his affection for the cigarette, my diffident endeavours, in the first two or three months of our romance, would not have exceeded a few pieces of well-cloaked affectionate advice such as, ‘Smoking is not good for your health’, or ‘Why don’t you quit?’ Feminine coquettishness, however, came into play in due course in order to produce the desired effect. Once I started my mannered cough, he would extinguish his cigarette in the nearest ashtray with a warm, affectionate