Nocturne (36 page)

‘
That
’
s different. That
’
s just the once.
’

‘
So what happens for the rest of the shoot ?
’

‘
I
’
ll do it.
’

‘
Including Brecon?
’

‘
Of course.
’

She took off her glasses and gave them a polish. According to
Brendan, she
’
d never had a child of her own and I wondered just what
difference that made. Was she jealous? Or just pissed off that I was
wasting precious budget on something as flippant as a week
’
s leave?

‘
Next week the kids are just bedding down,
’
I pointed out.
‘
The
director I have in mind
’
s first class. Boys prefer men around. I
’
m
adding value here. Everyone wins.
’

‘
That
’
s hardly the point, dear. The point is, you
’
re supposed to be
coping. You
’
re supposed to be in there, controlling the bloody thing.
That
’
s why we pay you. That
’
s what a producer
does
.
’

I stared at her. It was a clear threat, t
he shot across my bows I
’
d been
expecting for months. The phoney
war was over. My being pregnant
had opened hostilities.

‘
OK,
’
I shrugged.
‘
I
’
ll cancel the director and go back to plan A.
’

‘
What do you mean?
’

‘
I
mean I
’
ll direct it myself. Go up to Skye.
’
I gave her a smile.
‘
Take
control.
’

‘
You can
’
t,
’
she said sharply.
‘
You
’
re exhausted.
’

‘
I
’
m not.
’

‘
Yes you are. You just told me.
’

‘
I
was lying. I
’
m fine. It
’
s no problem. I can handle it.
’

‘
And the baby?
’

‘
We
’
ll handle it together.
’

The answer hurt her. I could see it. She almost winced. For a long
time, she stared at the Tango can. It was hot in the office and little
beads of condensation had formed around the outside.

‘
I still love him, you know. And I miss him, too.
’
She glanced up.
‘
Should I be telling you that?
’

I said I didn
’
t know. It sounded as pathetic as telling her I wa
s
knackered. I was looking for
an excuse to leave now, though in
retrospect I suspect I didn
’
t need one. What followed did neither of us
any favours.

She put the can to her lips, swallowing barely a mouthful.
‘
He
’
s talented, isn
’
t he? Clever?
’

‘
How do you mean?
’

‘
How do you think I mean?
’
She stared at me, then motioned
crudely at her lap.
‘
Good with it. Skilful. Too good really.
’

I gave her a weak smile, more to invite her to shut up than anything
else. Deliberately or otherwise, she ploughed on.

‘
Does he spoil you?
’
she asked.
‘
Have you done the honey yet? The
yoghurt? The bananas? All that?
’

As it happens, we had, though I wasn
’
t going to give her the
satisfaction of confirming it.

‘
I
haven
’
t a clue what you
’
re talking about,
’
I said primly.

‘
You
’
re lying,
’
she said hotly.
‘
Jesus, look at you, sex on legs.
’
She
paused.
‘
Ever wonder why he goes away so much? Why he
’
s forever
late back? Why it has to be Australia, or New York, or Los Angeles?
Ever think of all those hotel rooms? Those opportunities? Those big,
empty beds?
’
She tipped the can of Tango towards me in a mock-
toast.
‘
The man
’
s insatiable,
’
she said softly.
‘
Here
’
s to baby.
’

I
’
d had enough. I
’
d long ago abandoned the moral high ground
and I had precious little to lose except my job and whatever shreds of
a relationship I still shared with this twisted woman.

I stood up, looking her in the eye.

‘
If you
’
re telling me he gets bored, I
’
m sure you
’
re right. The trick
is to keep him happy, keep him satisfied. Maybe you should have
tried a bit harder. Taramasalata
’
s good, by the way. Much better
than honey.
’

I reached forward, putting my unopened Tango can beside hers.
Then I left.

My friend Nikki returned from South Africa that same week. The
night after I
’
d broken the news about Pinot, I took her out for a
consolatory meal. We both got very drunk, ending up back at De
Beauvoir Square. I
’
d promised her a puppy. In fact I think I
’
d
promised her dozens.

She circled the flat, colliding with various bits of furniture. I
’
d been
describing my run-in with Sandra. The digs about Brendan had got
under my skin. Bitch.

‘
You have to trust him,
’
Nikki kept saying.
‘
You have no option.
’

‘
I
do trust him. I trust him with my life. That
’
s the bloody
problem.
’

‘
What?
’

‘
My life.
He
’
s got it, all of it.
I gave it to him.
’

‘
You did?
’

‘
Yes.
’

‘
Then y
ou
’
re stupid.
’

‘
That
’
s what Sandra said. In so many words.
’

‘
She
’
s his w
ife. She
’
s bound to say that.
’

‘
I
know. But you said it too.
’

‘
When?
’

‘
Just now.
’

The conversation went round and round, dizzier and dizzier,
getting us nowhere. The fact that I
’
d got so hopelessly drunk made
me even more frustrated.

‘
How can I know?
’
I wailed.
‘
How can I know for sure? Shit, maybe
she
’
s right. She should know. Cow.
’

‘
She
’
s inventing it. She
’
s winding you up.
’

‘
You think so?
’

‘
Definitely. Come here.
’

She gave me a big, wet kiss and we staggered off to bed. Next
morning, early for once, Brendan turned u
p from the airport. I was still
in the flat. Nikki had left in a taxi. My head hurt and I was feeling
extremely insecure.

I sat Brendan down and made him a bacon sandwich. Twelve hours
on the plane from LA had left him in an even worse state than me. I
hosed tomato ketchup all over the bacon, sealing the sandwich with a
kiss. The smell of it made me want to throw up.

‘
Here,
’
I said, giving it to him.
‘
Real food. Make you feel better.
’

Brendan nibbled at the edges of the sandwich before pushing it
away. Whenever I looked at him I couldn
’
t help thinking of all those
yawning hotel beds. King sized. Newly folded down.

‘
Tired?
’

‘
Not really.
’

‘
Don
’
t fancy
…
?
’

I put my hand over his and felt him flinch. He
’
d never done that
before. I plugged the kettle in, meaning to make some fresh coffee.
When I turned round, he was examining the gas bill.
Gas
bill? Was I
that irresistible?

I circled him warily. Whatever happened next was completely out of
my hands. One way or another I had to get to him before the bitch-
queen did. Better me breaking the news than Sandra.

‘
I
’
m pregnant,
’
I told him.
‘
I
’
m going to have a baby.
’

Brendan was peering at the bottom of the bill.
If
you
use
more
than
ten
trillion
B
TUs
,
you
qualify
for
a
discount
.

‘
You what?
’

‘
I
’
m going to have a baby.
’

He looked up at last. Under the neon strip light, his skin was the
colour of putty. Too much indoors, I told myself. Too many hotel
bedrooms.

‘
When?
’

‘
December.
’

‘
But when did it happen?
’

‘
March.
’
I smiled wearily.
‘
You probably remember.
’

‘
But you told me
…
’
he fr
owned, still holding the bill.
‘
I
was wrong.
’
I did my best to keep smiling.
‘
But it
’
s great news,
isn
’
t it?
’

We had our crisis
meeting
two and a half weeks later. It happened to
be the
1
2th
August. I remember that because Nikki had a disgusting
boyfriend who went shooting in Scotland and he sent her a dead
pheasant care of Interbird or something and she phoned me up and
told me. I was about to go into Brendan
’
s office and she wished me
luck.