The Would-Begetter (18 page)

‘But you’ll still be seeing each other?’ Jess asked.

‘Oh I expect we’ll see each other once or twice a year, yes, but somehow I think that will be all.’ He seemed entirely philosophical about it.

‘So is that why you’ve asked me out? As a sort of Caroline substitute?’

‘Certainly not! Don’t underestimate yourself, or me, for that matter.’

‘Oh,’ Jess said. ‘Good.’

But when Vivian dropped her back at her flat later that evening, he made no attempt to ‘come in for coffee’ or even to kiss her. Jess was disappointed at first but later, lying in bed, decided that she wouldn’t have wanted to kiss him anyway. He was good company, but too inoffensive, too refined. It’s no good, she thought, he’s not for me. I need red-blooded enthusiasm, zest, drive,
passion!

Hector congratulated himself on not having made a scene in
front of Barry when so gleefully informed of his forthcoming marriage to Wendy. He had managed to say something ambiguous like, ‘Really?’ and had kept his dignity intact. However, once up the stairs and sitting at his desk, his mind began to work furiously.

I shall have to marry her myself, he thought, and
before
the baby is born too. The little minx! I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she and Barry haven’t cooked this whole thing up between them, just to push me into proposing. So maybe I’ll hang on until after the birth? But what if Barry really does want to marry her? Jess said he was keen… I can’t have that fat youth stealing
my
baby. So it may be a girl – so what? Maybe it’s ridiculous of me only to have wanted a son all this time? Daughters often get on better with their fathers anyway. A little girl could be very charming… but can I bring myself to marry Wendy? Hector forced himself to consider the pros and cons, to be scrupulously honest with himself, and yet pragmatic. He got out his notebook, ruled a column down the centre, and made two lists:

She’s having MY BABY – the clincher!

It’s all of a piece really, Hector thought. In other words, Wendy isn’t my equal intellectually. Maybe that’s a good thing. Clever women are notoriously difficult to live with, and I’m not at all keen on this New Man stuff. Wendy is undoubtedly all woman. You wouldn’t get her expecting
me
to do the cooking. And the Somerset accent and the social scene? Well, how often do I mix in the sort of circles where that would be a disadvantage? She’d be fine at the golf club with the other wives. What am I fussing about?

But what about love (whatever that is)? Forget it! Hector admonished himself sharply. You’re far too old for all that
romantic nonsense. After all, you can’t expect to have everything in this life. Wendy fancies you, and you quite fancy her. That’s probably about as good as it gets. But what about loving Zillah? his conscience prompted him. Nah! Hector brushed the thought aside, crossly. That was mere infatuation. Beauty is a gilded trap for the unwary. Just as well some of us have the wit not to fall into it.

The following morning when Hector collected his post at the front door, he discovered that his decree absolute had finally arrived. He was divorced from Megan at last! It must be fate, he thought. I’d better act upon it at once. I shall take Wendy out for a special meal tonight, question her on a few crucial aspects of her family health, and if all is well, get her to forget Barry and marry me instead.

Wendy was trying hard not to examine her own feelings too closely. Barry had worn her down with his entreaties and she had finally said ‘Yes’. She wouldn’t have to face being a single mum after all, and the relief was wonderful. Barry’s delight had been very heartening too. It’s what I need, Wendy kept on assuring herself. I need to be loved, and Barry loves me. It’s that simple.

She was now determined to stop herself obsessively keeping an eye out for Hector and his comings and goings at work. Instead, she kept her head well down. He clearly wasn’t going to propose to her. He didn’t want to marry her. It’s my own fault, she chided herself guiltily. I trapped him into sleeping with me the first time and now look where it’s got me.

‘Wendy?’ Hector’s voice made her jump.

‘Oh!’

‘Could I have a word?’

Wendy walked across to the end of the Reception desk. ‘What about?’

‘I want you to come out to dinner with me,’ Hector said, keeping his voice low so that Jackie couldn’t overhear.

‘Oh,’ Wendy said, ‘well I’m not sure. I am an engaged woman you know.’

‘Please,’ Hector insisted. ‘It’s important.’

‘Oh well, I suppose we could have just one more meal. I don’t suppose Barry…’

‘Right,’ Hector said. ‘Pick you up at seven o’clock sharp. OK?’ And he opened the door and disappeared upstairs.

Oh dear, Wendy worried. I really ought to tell Barry, but I don’t think I’m going to. He’d only be cross, and after all, it’s not as though I’m going to make a habit of it. After tonight, that’ll be it. She felt sad at the thought, but steeled herself to try to think positively. She would go along with what Hector wanted this last time, and that would round things off tidily. Maybe she did owe him that.

Hector arrived at her house promptly at seven o’clock, dressed in a smart suit and with a bottle of champagne in his hands. He was smiling cheerfully. ‘Pop this in the fridge, there’s a love,’ he said. ‘We can drink it when we get back.’

‘Oh I’m not drinking these days, Hector. It’s bad for the baby.’

Hector frowned. ‘Well put it away somewhere, will you? I can’t keep carrying it around.’

Wendy did so. Then they got into Hector’s Jaguar and set off for the restaurant. ‘I feel a bit bad,’ Wendy said. ‘I haven’t told Barry I’m here.’

‘Good,’ Hector said.

‘I haven’t changed my mind, Hector. I’m still going to marry Barry. We’re buying the ring Saturday.’

‘Wendy?’ Hector said abruptly, not taking his eyes from the road ahead. ‘Is there any madness in your family?’

‘What a thing to ask!’ Wendy was outraged. ‘My family’s as good as yours any day.’

‘I’m sure it is. So none of your relations have ever suffered from serious mental illness?’

‘No way!’

‘Or serious illnesses of any other kind?’

‘Why?’

‘Bear with me, please, Wendy. It’s very important.’

‘Why is it?’

‘Because I say so. Now, have they? Think hard!’

Wendy, remembering her resolve, said obediently, ‘Not that I can remember offhand, no.’

‘You don’t have any diabetes or cystic fibrosis or haemophilia, or anything like that?’

‘No, both my nans and grandads died of old age, and my mum and dad were killed in a gas explosion.’

‘Oh…’ Hector turned towards her for an instant. He looked genuinely sympathetic. ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’

‘It was years ago,’ Wendy said.

‘You poor little thing,’ Hector said, patting her knee consolingly.

After that, there was no more talk of illness. Hector was very attentive and Wendy began to enjoy herself. They arrived at the best, crowded, restaurant (which Hector usually dismissed as being far too expensive) and were given a table right in the middle. Wendy ordered her favourite meal: prawn cocktail, followed by steak and chips, followed by Black Forest gâteau, and Hector didn’t criticise her choice once. Then, as she finally sat back replete, wiping her mouth with the napkin, Hector leant towards her and took her hand.

‘I’ve got something very important to tell you,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ Wendy could feel a burp rising within her, and strove to keep it down.

‘I got my decree absolute today,’ Hector said, ‘so I’m finally divorced.’

‘Mmmmm,’ Wendy said, letting it out in suppressed form.

‘But don’t you see?’ Hector said excitedly. ‘Don’t you see where that leaves me? I’m free, Wendy, free to marry you!’

‘But…’ Wendy struggled with the unfairness of life, ‘… but now I’ve promised Barry…’

‘It’s not too late,’ Hector leant earnestly towards her. ‘Ask yourself who is it that you really love? Ask yourself who is the father of your child? Be honest, Wendy!’

‘But… do you really want to marry me?’ Wendy asked, confused.

‘I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t, would I?’

‘Well, you haven’t exactly asked me yet…’

Then to Wendy’s huge embarrassment, Hector rose to his feet right there in the middle of the posh restaurant, got down rather heavily on one knee and said, ‘Please Wendy, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

‘Get up!’
Wendy hissed, blushing. ‘Everyone’s staring.’

‘Not until you’ve given me your answer,’ Hector said, smiling confidently.

Oh God! Wendy agonised inwardly. This is what I’ve been praying for for so long, and now… I am so sorry, Barry. Please forgive me…

‘Well?’ Hector said. ‘Hurry up. My knee’s killing me.’

‘Oh Hector…’ Tears of happiness started from Wendy’s eyes.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Yes.’

Hector got to his feet and raised a triumphant thumb to the other diners. There was a desultory scatter of applause. Wendy didn’t know where to put herself. ‘Wonderful!’ Hector said, sitting down again. ‘Will you tell Barry, or shall I?’

‘Oh,’ Wendy said, ‘I think I’d better. Poor Barry…’

‘Poor Barry nothing,’ Hector said. ‘You’re well out of that one. He’s a mere child. He’ll soon get over it, and I’ll lay bets there’s somebody not a million miles from him, who will be over the moon at our news.’

‘Who?’

‘Barry’s mother. The poor lad can’t even draw breath without her permission. You do realise that you would’ve had to go and live with her if you’d married him? I don’t suppose he got around to mentioning that, though?’

‘No,’ Wendy agreed. Barry hadn’t mentioned it. He had, however, mentioned loving her, several times, which was more than Hector had.

Next morning Barry had a happy time at work casually dropping the news that he and Wendy were getting married soon. He knew that Wendy had suggested delaying the announcement until she had the ring to show off, but Barry couldn’t wait. He could scarcely believe his luck, and he revelled in all the exclamations of surprise and delight from his fellows at the
Chronicle
.

‘We didn’t know you had it in you!’ they said.

‘You are a dark horse Barry!’

‘When’s the happy day?’

‘What does your mum think, then?’

This last was the only problem. Barry hadn’t actually told his mother yet. He decided to do it that evening. He hoped she would be delighted. Hadn’t she always said that she lived
for his happiness? He hadn’t consciously ever been
happy
before. Now he felt as though he could accomplish anything, be anyone he chose, live life to the full. He might even get thinner; give up crisps? He doodled an imaginary headline and the fulsome text below it:

14-stone Barry Poole has shed four stone for love. Barry, 21, a graduate trainee on the
Westcountry Chronicle,
who recently got a distinction in his shorthand exams and came top in Law, Local Government and Newspaper Practice, plans to pass his Proficiency Test for Senior Reporter in a matter of weeks and move house with his new bride and young baby to pursue a promising career on a national tabloid in the heart of London. ‘I’m on my way,’ he told our reporter today. ‘Nothing can stop me now.’

Dream on! Barry thought wryly to himself. Sounds good though. He decided to pop down to Reception for a moment just to check that Wendy was all right. Her shift should have started by now, and he didn’t want her getting overtired. I’ll try to persuade her to stop work straight away, he thought. All this standing about can’t be good for her and the baby. He saw her before she noticed him and stood at the doorway at the bottom of the stairs for just a moment, smiling soppily at her profile. Then she looked round and saw him.

‘Hello darling,’ he said. It sounded a bit stilted, but that was only because he wasn’t accustomed to saying the word.

‘Oh Barry…’ Wendy seemed less than glad to see him. In fact she looked tense, and unhappy. Barry went over at once and took her arm.

‘What’s the matter? Are you all right?’

Wendy disengaged her arm gently. ‘Yes, I’m fine. There’s just… just something I’ve got to say.’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind?’

‘Well not exactly. It’s just that…’

‘You HAVE changed your mind!’

‘I’m ever so sorry, Barry. It’s not your fault, and I really never meant to hurt you. It’s just that Hector’s got his divorce
through at last and… and I do feel that my baby ought to be with… its real father…’

‘Has he asked you to marry him?’ Barry demanded, ‘Well has he?’

‘Yes he has.’

‘And you’ve
agreed?

‘I’m really sorry, Barry.’

‘HOW COULD YOU!’ Barry felt his own tears welling up for the first time since he was ten and his father had walked out on his mother and him. So, rather than letting Wendy see him start blubbing, he dashed away from her, punching his way blindly through the swing doors and down the road outside, looking neither left nor right, keeping his head up and his teeth clenched together until he was well away from the
Chronicle
building and the shopping streets, and had reached the steps going down to the beach. Then he marched briskly along the sodden sand away from the quiet out-of-season pier, and the dog walkers, and the men building a bonfire above high water mark for firework night. And not until he was well out of earshot of all but a few tatty gulls did he give vent to his pent-up feelings in a great howl of rage and rejection.