The Would-Begetter (5 page)

‘No, yes, well… you see I found this ring and I wondered if you’d lost yours because I noticed you weren’t wearing…’

‘You found a ring? Where?’

‘Oh, um, on the pavement outside the office. So I wondered…’

‘Can’t be mine,’ Wendy said, ‘because I threw… gave it back. We had one heck of a row if you must know. I told him where he could stick it.’

‘So the engagement’s off then?’

‘You’re telling me! I’m not bothered though. He wasn’t worth it. No, I’m seeing ever such a nice new bloke, seven years older than me, a professional man, you know.’

‘Do I?’

‘Do you what?’

‘Know this new bloke?’

‘Ah, now that’d be telling, wouldn’t it?’ Wendy sounded arch.

‘It’s just that I wondered…?’

‘Ye… es?’

‘If you’d like to see a film with me tonight… or tomorrow… or maybe next week, if you’re busy…?’

‘You’re asking me out?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘You?’ She laughed, a merry little giggle which stopped abruptly. He knew she had clapped a hand over her mouth. Then she said, ‘Don’t get me wrong Barry. I’m ever so flattered of course, but it’d be like cradle-snatching, wouldn’t it? It’s really sweet of you to ask though. You’re a nice boy.’

‘Oh. Right. ‘Bye.’ Barry put the phone down. He could feel his face was scarlet with mortification. He glanced quickly all round to make sure his call hadn’t been overheard. No. At least his humiliation hadn’t been public. God, he felt such a wally! Jess was right, he thought. I should have listened to her. He debated whether he could phone Jess and ask her out instead, but then he thought she might think he
fancied
her, and he didn’t think he could handle any more embarrassment in one day. Then he thought, Hey! If Wendy’s really got this wonderful new bloke, then what’s she doing at home alone, washing her hair on a Saturday night? And he began to feel marginally better.

Caroline noticed that the sitting room of the house into which Hector ushered her seemed to be only partly furnished. There was a sofa but no chairs, a TV cabinet but no television, and a substantial but mostly empty bookcase. But then, as she looked further, she saw that parts of the room were very thoroughly co-ordinated indeed. The curtains all had immaculate pelmets and swags and tie-back sashes, and matched the sofa
and
the carpet. The paintwork and radiators harmonised. The walls toned in, but there were several dark rectangles where large pictures must once have protected the wallpaper from fading. Over some of these, smaller undistinguished prints
now hung. It wasn’t at all what she would have expected from someone like Hector. Caroline allowed herself to be shown to the sofa, and looked about her in puzzlement as he went to the sideboard and opened a new bottle of gin. There was a bowl of assorted citrus fruits and some shelves with nasty glass ornaments, but no decent books at all. Bad news, Caroline thought. This is probably a ghastly mistake. Why am I here?

‘Gin and tonic,’ Hector said, coming over with a full glass and standing beside her. ‘Ice?’

‘No ice thanks, but a slice of lemon would be good.’

‘Ah…’ Hector said, ‘I didn’t think of that. Bother.’

‘There’s a lemon over there, in that bowl.’

‘Oh? Oh yes, so there is. Not started though… but I suppose…’

‘Are you worried about it drying up once it’s cut? Only I…’

‘No, no,’ Hector said hastily. ‘Not a problem.’ He took the lemon from the bowl and went into the kitchen with it to find a sharp knife.

I’m here, Caroline reminded herself, because I detect a certain earthy vigour in Hector, which I find definitely attractive (and which is decidedly lacking in Vivian). I hope I’m right. She got to her feet and wandered after him into the kitchen. The lemon had already been cut into five thick slices on a plate. Next to it on the melamine working surface, several metallic take-away cartons stood, unopened, cooling. Hector was down on his knees beside the gas cooker, peering inside the oven, with a dead match in his hand.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ Caroline asked.

He scrambled to his feet looking flustered. ‘I was just going to make sure the food was hot enough,’ he said, ‘but the damn cooker’s playing up.’ There was a strong smell of gas.

‘For goodness sake!’ Caroline exclaimed, rushing forwards to turn it off. ‘You’ll blow us all up! How about opening a window before we try again, eh?’ Hector rather sulkily did as he was bidden, and when the worst of the gas had cleared, Caroline closed the oven door and turned the gas on again. ‘You surely don’t need matches for a state-of-the-art cooker like this?’ she said. ‘There must be a pilot light?’ There was a popping noise as the gas ignited. ‘There you are!’

‘Oh good,’ Hector looked annoyed. Then he opened the oven door again and began putting their supper inside it.

‘Do you cook here often?’ Caroline grinned.

‘What d’you mean?’ Hector’s head jerked up.

‘Nothing! Nothing. It’s just that you don’t exactly strike me as a new man. Unreconstructed is a word which springs readily to mind!’

‘Lemon’s there,’ Hector said, pointing. ‘Be with you in a moment.’

Caroline speared the thinnest ring with the knife, and slipped it into her glass. Then she went back into the sitting room and admired the shine on the ornaments. Hector’s cleaning lady might work odd hours, but she clearly knew her job.

‘That’s all right then,’ he said, coming in smiling. ‘I think quarter of an hour should do it. Hope you don’t mind eating in the kitchen? It’s so much easier. In the meantime, let’s have some music in here. Did I mention earlier how lovely you look tonight,
cariad?’

‘Cariad?’

‘Welsh for love, or darling.’

‘But you’re not Welsh are you?’

‘My great-grandmother Gwladys was, and she had an enormous influence on my family in the 1880s. That’s a portrait of her.’ Hector, without turning, indicated the wall behind his head. Caroline followed his pointing finger and was confronted by an Easter bonnet full of kittens.

‘She was a Welsh tabby then?’

‘Eh?’ Hector jerked round and then laughed in some embarrassment. ‘Oh, how ridiculous of me. For a moment there I’d forgotten I’d sent her off to be… restored!’

‘Something for all of us to look forward to, maybe?’ Caroline murmured.

What followed was entirely predictable, she thought, but none the less acceptable for all that. Whilst she drank two gins, Hector admired her clothes, her hair and her intellect. They ate the Chinese food (which had survived its ordeal triumphantly) and then Hector began to kiss her feverishly and mumble briefly about beauty, fate and desire. Then he led her upstairs.

‘Here we… no, up here,’ Hector said, pulling her urgently after him. ‘It’s actually the spare room, but the view’s better.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought that matt…’ but he was kissing her again, and fumbling to disconnect hooks and eyes somewhere at the level of her shoulderblades. ‘Lower down,’ she instructed him when he removed his mouth from hers to take a breath, and then, ‘Don’t you have a double bed in your room?’

‘Lumpy,’ Hector explained, between kisses. ‘Belonged to my parents, N.B.G, pre-war… God, your skin is so soft and smooth… and the curve of your neck is… exquisite… Mmmmmmmmm’

Caroline lay on her back and counted the blue elephants on the wall closest to her, that is, until she found herself being drawn into the spirit of the occasion. Then she was obliged to close her eyes and go with the flow. Only later did she have time to think to herself, I was right! Hector
is
one of those unusual men who, despite being rich and handsome, is also remarkably good in bed.

Yes, Hector thought, yes, yes, YES! This is it; I’m home and dry! Home, eh? that’s ironic. I’m not exactly dry either. I do love the way sweat sticks naked bodies together, once it begins to evaporate. I could lie like this for ever. Now, the only problem is – I shall have to replace Megan’s damn lemon. She’ll be bound to notice it’s gone. And then there’s the sheets. I didn’t bring any spare single ones… I’ll just have to check the bed for hairs later. Thank Christ I remembered just in time about Megan’s stupid slimming magazine on her bedside table (but only
after
I’d gone to all the trouble of putting clean sheets on the flaming bed). It wouldn’t have taken a moment to hide the wretched thing, if only I’d thought, but sod’s law I didn’t remember it until I was half-way up the stairs with Caroline… Mmmm, what a woman!

But,
revenons à nos moutons
Hector thought, what I’ll have to do next, is to take her back to the pub to collect her car. Then I’ll come straight back here and cover my tracks – I’ve no idea when Megan is due home. I must put her sheets back on the double bed, wash up, take the food containers and my own bottles of gin and tonic home and… Hell! where in
heaven’s name am I going to find another sodding lemon in the middle of the night?

‘D’you by any chance know of a 24-hour supermarket nearby?’ he asked.

‘You do say the most romantic things.’ Caroline yawned and stretched. ‘I was almost asleep. Why the sudden interest in shopping?’

‘Oh, I was just thinking ahead.’

‘Doesn’t take you long to switch from the divine to the mundane, does it?’

‘Sorry,’ Hector said, kissing her silken shoulder. ‘Insensitive of me. You are divine – there’s no denying it, but I suppose all good things must come to an end sooner or later. I hate to suggest it, but I suppose it’s almost time to drive you back to your car, isn’t it?’

‘What’s the rush? Let’s not move just yet. I’m so very comfortable…’ She closed her eyes, ‘and anyway, I don’t have to be home until tomorrow. We could spend the whole night together.’

‘Oh, but is that wise?’ Hector hadn’t even considered this possibility.

‘Why ever not?’

‘Well… you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep,’ Hector said. ‘I’m afraid I snore horribly. Much better stick to the original plan.’

Caroline’s eyes snapped open. ‘OK, I get the message,’ she said crisply. ‘It’s amazing how quickly the thrill of the chase evaporates, once the quarry has been well and truly overmastered, isn’t it?’ Then she threw back the duvet and, standing between the bed and the window, began putting her bra on.

‘Please,’ Hector said. ‘Don’t take it the wrong way. I only meant…’

‘It’s quite obvious what you meant. Oh, are you expecting someone?’

‘Why?’

‘Because there’s a car coming up the drive.’ Caroline peered through the gap between the curtains.

‘Hellfire!’
Hector cried, leaping out of bed, and scrabbling about on. the floor for his clothes.

‘Don’t panic, Hector. I don’t have a reputation that needs
protecting. Ah, yes, I can identify the make of car now, in the light from the front porch. Good Lord! It must be your cleaning lady. She’s parking next to your Jag. What an extraordinary hour to turn up. Does she “do” for you daily, eh? Is that why you were so keen to get rid of me?’

‘Of course not!’
Hector gibbered, ‘Don’t get the wrong idea – old girlfriend – won’t take no for an answer – so embarrassing – mustn’t involve you – better get your clothes? Oh God! Why the bloody hell…? Where’s my sodding…?’

‘If you’re looking for your shirt, it’s there under the bed,’ Caroline observed coldly. ‘And what exactly are you hoping I’ll do now; shin nimbly down the drainpipe and leg it?’

Hector was speechless.

The front door banged shut, and a powerful woman’s voice bellowed, ‘Hector? What the fuck do you think you’re doing in
my
house? Come downstairs AT ONCE, d’you hear?’

‘If I didn’t know any better,’ Caroline smiled, tight-lipped, ‘I’d say that sounded exactly like a wife.’

I feel a bit concerned about Hector, Jess thought, as she drove home from work. He’s seemed very down recently. I wonder what’s wrong? She had hoped all day that he would unburden himself to her, but a public meeting about a proposed new housing development had taken up all his time and attention and besides, Hector didn’t seem to be in the mood for confidences. Perhaps he’s had a falling-out with Caroline, and perhaps she will enlighten me this evening, Jess wondered.

She had invited Caroline to supper rather tentatively, not really supposing that she would want to come, and was both delighted and alarmed when she had accepted with alacrity. What on earth will we talk about, Jess worried, once we’ve flogged to death all the old tales from school? I’m not sure we have anything else in common.

In the event, it was not a problem. Caroline arrived and from the outset was entirely at ease. She congratulated Jess on the quality of her photographs of the Directors, and proceeded to walk round her flat admiring more of her work on the walls, even asking to see some of her old stuff. Then she sat on the futon with a glass of wine in her hand and said, ‘Isn’t this lovely? So civilised! D’you know, all my other women friends have small children, and quite honestly it’s a waste of time going to visit them these days. If you speak more than three consecutive words to any of them, at least one of their tiresome offspring feels neglected and has to chip in with its say, and from then on any intelligent conversation is totally out of the question. How people survive that kind of stultifying boredom, beats me!’

Oh I see, Jess thought. So she’s bothering to befriend me partly because she’s lonely, but mostly because everyone else she knows is ‘a mother’. I hope she doesn’t want me to
join her in an association for the glorification of superior childlessness. I mean, I’m not against having children. Perhaps I should say so? As long as she doesn’t expect me to swear an oath of eternal…

‘You’re looking very serious all of a sudden?’ Caroline said.

‘I’m stuck for a word. I’ve never realised before that there isn’t an English noun for the state of being-happily-without-children. “Childlessness” sounds so involuntary somehow. There ought to be one – non-procreatorship… barren-itude… no… Why isn’t there, d’you think?’

‘Perhaps because it’s unthinkable? Although that’s less and less true, if you believe the statistics. Apparently these days as many as one in five women are choosing not to have any. I’ve got a good term for it, actually. So far at any rate, I’m child-free.’