The Would-Begetter (22 page)

Wendy also undertook a huge cooking session and stocked up the freezer with meals for a fortnight. She cleaned every room in the house, changed the sheets on the beds, put blue-flush in the lavatories, washed the curtains and dusted the tops of the lampshades. At the back of her mind was a tiny voice that said,
What if you don’t come round after the operation?
Wendy felt that, in this event, at least she’d have nothing to feel ashamed of.

And now here she was, in her private hospital room, having been brought there at nine thirty by Hector. It was now… Wendy looked at her watch… five thirty and it had seemed a very long day. A nurse had written
Mrs W. Mudgeley
on a plastic band and had fastened it around her wrist. After some hours a young doctor had showed up, and then the surgeon.

Then no one. Soon she would ring Morgan at Ifor’s to check that he was all right. Then at six thirty when Hector would be home from work, she would ring him too. So what now? There was a television, but she didn’t feel like watching it. She wished she were in a proper ward with things going on, and other patients to talk to. When she had previously stayed overnight in the Gynae ward for her exploratory laparoscopy, there had been Maureen the hairdresser on one side with her gas curling tongs, and fat Jean on the other with her constant complaints. Wendy hadn’t liked either of them much, but at least they were a distraction. She was glad when it was eventually time to telephone.

‘Hector, love, it’s me.’

‘Oh, hello. Hang on a mo. I’ll just turn the radio off… Hello?’

‘How was your day?’

‘Pretty good actually. I managed to escape from the Newsroom for almost half of it, and I’ve done a really good piece on the aerial pollution from that plastics factory I was telling you about. Remember?’

‘Oh… good… Are you all right?’

‘Fine. But it’s odd being here on my own without you or Morgan.’

‘Yes, it would be. Morgan’s happy. I rang him just now. He says he and the girls are all dressing up, and he’s being a robot.’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Did you find your supper all right?’

‘Yes, I’m putting it in the microwave any minute.’

‘I wish I could eat something myself. I’m starving!’

‘What? Haven’t they brought you any food yet?’

‘Of course not! I’m not allowed any supper before the op. I told you.’

‘So you did. You all right then?’

‘As all right as I’m ever going to be.’

‘Well I suppose I’d best be getting on with this cooking business, so… well… what does one say in these circumstances? Good luck for tomorrow? Hope it all goes well.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I’ll pop in to see you in the evening, OK?’

‘Yes.’

‘Goodbye for now then, love.’

‘’Bye.’ Wendy put the receiver down slowly. Hector had said ‘Good luck for tomorrow’ as though she were going to the dentist for a check-up or something equally routine. What if she were to die under the knife? Would he then wish he’d said, ‘Darling, just remember one thing, I’ve always loved you’ or maybe, ‘Be brave my beloved, I only wish
I
could go through it all for you’. Or even, ‘Chin up sweetheart. I’ll be thinking of you’.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she sniffed them back. Then she looked at her watch. It was going to be a long night too. She sighed, turned to plump up her pillows and, taking out
Hush Now My Trembling Heart
from her locker, settled back determinedly and began to read.

The day after the operation, Jess felt it was about time she and Hector re-established normal communications, so she went over to talk to him at his desk in the Newsroom.

‘How’s Wendy?’

‘Hard to tell. She was looking yellow and being sick when I saw her last night,’ Hector said, barely looking up.

‘The poor thing! Was the operation a success though?’

‘Oh I assume so. I expect she’ll tell me all the gory details soon enough.’

Jess glanced around. Nigel and two of the Reporters nearest to Hector were deep in discussion. Barry and the others were talking on their telephones, and the Subs were too far away to overhear anyway. She decided to risk it.

‘Hector,’ she said, keeping her voice low, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, or something?’ Hector looked up, frowning. ‘I’d never do it on purpose,’ Jess said, ‘you must know that?’

Hector merely looked puzzled. ‘Sorry?’ he said. ‘I’m not with you.’

‘Hector?’ called Barry, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. ‘I’ve got a man here who says he saw the fight at the chip shop. On line six. D’you want a word?’

‘If I must,’ Hector said, picking up his phone. Jess took the hint and slipped out of the Newsroom.

Hector went dutifully to see Wendy again the following
evening. She continued to look pretty dreadful and there was still a gruesome tube coming out from beneath her bedclothes and leading to a bottle of bloody liquid on the floor. Hector sat carefully on the other side where he couldn’t see it. Wendy was less drowsy this time, and able to talk.

‘They’ve taken the drip off the back of my hand, thank goodness,’ she said, ‘and I’ve even walked!’

‘So soon?’ Hector asked.

‘Well only once round the bed, with a couple of nurses holding me up and carrying my drain. And the Doctor says the op. was all very straightforward and they’ve left my ovaries in place, so I won’t have an early menopause, so that’s good, isn’t it.’

‘I suppose so, yes.’

‘And guess how big the lump of fibroids was?’

‘No idea.’ Hector braced himself for the details.

‘Bigger than a grapefruit, they said! So that should make me slimmer, eh?’

‘Should do.’ Hector sought to dodge the subject. ‘Are you in pain?’

‘Yes, quite a lot,’ Wendy said, wincing. ‘But they’re giving me painkillers and I’m not moving much, so I reckon it’s more uncomfortable than anything. Have you been OK? And Morgan?’

‘Both fine,’ Hector said. ‘Morgan rang me. He’s got some rhyme or another that he’s dying to recite to you. I’ll bring him in in a day or two when you’re a bit better.’

‘Good.’ Wendy yawned and closed her eyes, and after a few minutes when Hector reckoned she was definitely asleep, he tiptoed away. He drove home half-listening to the radio, but after a few moments leaned forward intently and gave it his full attention, driving even worse than usual in consequence.

Once home, he sat for a considerable time staring at the window but unfocused, thinking about the programme he had just heard. Could what they had said be true of him as well? And if so, how could he have got it so wrong for so long? Perhaps he was growing up at last? Or was it just a sign of incipient old age, when beauty ceased to be paramount in a man’s assessment of his ideal woman?

Hector had lately been reading a host of popular science
books in an attempt to counteract the bias inculcated in him by his narrow arts education, and the idea of the evolution of human nature by sexual selection currently fascinated him. He saw now that he had been at its mercy all his life, unknowingly swept along by the biological imperative that female beauty signifies youth and health, which together make for optimum breeding of the next generation. It was a cruel fact of nature that kind, clever,
ugly
women were discriminated against most unfairly, in spite of their undeniable worth.

I’ve done with the breeding bit now, Hector thought, so shouldn’t I at last be liberated from the tyranny of my genes? Perhaps that’s what maturity is all about. Perhaps that’s why I’m dimly beginning to realise what I’ve been missing all this time. I’ve been so obtuse, so prejudiced, so
intolerant
. Why didn’t it strike me long ago? After all, she has all the qualities I most admire, and I’ve felt closer to her than to any other woman, for years and years… He got up and went to the telephone.

‘Jess!’

‘Hector? Is that you?’

‘Yes, look I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you at work. I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting you a bit lately. It’s not your fault; I just seem to need some space sometimes. But, can I come round and make up for it now?’

‘Well I suppose… yes, if you like. I’ve only just got home, and the place is rather a tip, but… yes.’

‘House-proudness is an overrated virtue,’ Hector said carelessly. ‘I’ve always thought so. See you in about half an hour then.’

He ran up the stairs two at a time to the bathroom and gargled energetically with pink mouthwash. He inspected his face in the mirror for flaws and then had a quick shave anyway. He sniffed his armpits, and discovering them to be passably sweet, bounded downstairs again to look for a suitable gift.

His car journey to Jess’s flat passed without any conscious effort on his part. The Jaguar drove itself. Hector was suffused with the excitement of the moment. His blood had woken from long torpor and positively roared through his veins. His hands, as they rested nonchalantly on the steering wheel, looked to him to be strong yet sensitive. He felt full of
confidence. A long-abandoned tune from his youth rose unbidden into his head and provoked him to spontaneous expression.

‘You are the sunshine of my life… yeah!’ Hector sang, ‘Mmm mmm mm mmmmmm mm mmmmmmmmm…’ The forgotten words were not crucial. It was the feeling behind them that was so uplifting. He arrived at Jess’s door with all his senses heightened as though he’d been breathing pure oxygen.

‘Good grief,’ she said. ‘Champagne! What’s all this in aid of?’

‘I’ve been keeping it for years,’ Hector explained, ‘since before Morgan was born, in fact. And now I’ve found exactly the right use for it.’

‘You have?’

‘Well aren’t you going to invite me in then?’

Jess took the bottle and moved backwards, but Hector, instead of going past her, stepped jauntily over the threshold and flung both arms round her. Then he held her at arm’s length, in order to gauge her reaction. She looked more bemused than ecstatic. His confidence wavered a fraction.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Simple,’ Hector said. ‘You see I was listening to Radio 4 on my way back from the hospital, and this woman was saying how it’s quite possible for some men to be in love for years and years without actually realising it.’

‘Sounds pretty far-fetched to me.’

‘Not at all!’ Hector cried. ‘It makes perfect sense. It’s a revelation! You see, that’s what’s been happening to
me!

‘It has?’ Now she merely looked confused.

‘Come on, Jess! I didn’t exactly expect you to swoon into my waiting arms, but I had hoped for a little more enthusiasm.’

‘Well you haven’t told me yet who you think you’re in love with.’

‘Why you of course, who else?’ Hector stared into her warm brown eyes and saw with tremendous relief that he wasn’t entirely rejected. There was room for hope.

When Hector kissed her, Jess felt mostly confusion and disbelief. He led her through to her sitting room holding her
hand and they sat down, smiling rather awkwardly at one another.

‘I suddenly feel about sixteen years old,’ Hector said.

‘You don’t look it,’ Jess said drily. ‘Just as well!’

‘Here, pass me the champagne and I’ll open it,’ he said. Jess did so, and went to find two glasses. Hector tore off the foil and the metal basket and eased the cork out with both thumbs. It made a satisfactory pop.

‘Whoops,’ he said as the contents fizzed up and overflowed.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Jess said, catching some in one glass and presenting the other. ‘It’s a grotty carpet anyway.’ She handed the full glass to Hector.

‘Iechyd da cariad,’
he said. ‘Cheers, my darling. Here’s to us!’

Jess couldn’t help but be flattered by this new romantic Hector, but underneath she wondered what on earth was going on. Had he brought the champagne to aid a seduction? Was he hoping she would go to bed with him? As far as she was concerned, there were two significant reasons why she shouldn’t: Hector was a married man, and she wasn’t on the pill!

She sat on the edge of her seat hugging both arms around her chest, and regarding him seriously. She decided she liked the shape of his nostrils, the curve of his mouth, even the small white scar on his forehead… but did she really
fancy
him? Unrequited day-dreams about Hector were one thing, but the actuality was quite another. In her fantasies she had felt a lot of things… but apprehension hadn’t been one of them.

Hector was taking his time. He seemed to want to talk. Jess put her glass down and, shuffling off her shoes, put her feet up on the futon and leant back.

‘I’ve made so many mistakes,’ Hector began. ‘You know when famous people are asked about their lives on radio or TV, and they say that, given the chance, they’d do it all over again just the same? I always think that’s so bloody conceited! I never believe them. It means they’re either too stupid to learn from experience or they’re lying through their teeth. No one ever gets it all right, do they? Life’s one almighty compromise.’

‘With occasional short sharp spells of euphoria, if you’re lucky,’ Jess agreed.

Hector smiled lovingly at her. ‘I want to try to explain things,’ he said. ‘I want you to understand me. I’ve changed, you see. Until now I’ve always seen women as the means to an end; for pleasure, children, whatever, but now…’

‘Now, what?’

‘Well, companionship and friendship are just as important, aren’t they? There’d be no need to rush anything. As long as we were together, we could just
be!

‘You and me, you mean?’

‘Yes, you and me.’

‘And no one else?’

‘Why d’you ask that?’ He looked wounded. ‘Don’t you believe me?’

‘Well I was just wondering if it’s really positively me you want, rather than simply a change from Wendy, if you understand what I mean?’ Hector frowned. ‘You see,’ Jess said hastily, ‘I was at Caroline’s when you rang her, so I wondered…’

Hector smiled widely. ‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘No, I haven’t the remotest interest in the Moffat woman if that’s what you mean. I just wanted to see Hannah. I suppose I still have a sneaking feeling that she might be my daughter, and so I wanted to be sure. What’s she like? You’ve seen her. How would you describe her?’

Jess sat up abruptly and put both feet back on the floor. ‘She’s very pretty,’ she said, ‘and very clever at school, but maybe a bit of a show-off, a touch aggressive, even unhappy? It’s hard to say. I think she resents her mother leaving her to go to work every morning.’