The Would-Begetter (8 page)

Hector should be here, Jess thought, screwing up her nose in distaste. He could have written a brilliant piece on all this, and he could have interviewed the more forthcoming victims and really gone to town on it. I’d better get some names and addresses for him, although they won’t be back in their own homes for weeks, I don’t suppose, so finding them again could be tricky. Thank goodness it’s only Saturday (well, actually it’s Sunday by now), so there’s plenty of time to get it together before the Thursday news deadline, and who knows, there may be some dramatic developments between now and then. Goodness, I almost forgot, it’s Christmas next week.

Wendy registered the exact moment when Hector finally got the message, and felt a surge of triumph. All at once, Hector’s face had become flushed, his eyes seemed somehow darker and more intense, and the hand which had been holding the towel tightly round his middle relaxed a fraction, allowing it to sag round his hips in a casually suggestive manner. He no longer looked like a fool in a farce, caught with his trousers down. All traces of embarrassment seemed to have vanished. He was still dishy in spite of not being exactly young, Wendy decided. He was forty-two, after all, but was wearing it well. His torso was solid and muscular and only moderately hairy, and his demeanour was eminently reassuring. He looked jaunty, in control, appraising. Please, Wendy thought,
please
God make him fancy me. I’ll never get a better chance…

Hector leant towards her. ‘And what would your fiancé have to say about this then?’ he enquired softly.

‘Oh, that’s all off,’ Wendy said at once, displaying ringless fingers with pride. ‘I’m free again. I can do what I like.’

‘I see.’ Hector smiled wolfishly. ‘And just what is it that you do like?’

‘I like you,’ Wendy said. She kept her eyes demurely downcast, but allowed the edges of the robe to part a fraction more.

Hector shuffled himself up so that he was sitting right next to her and then, letting go of his towel, he put his left arm along the back of the sofa and smoothly inserted his right
hand under her silky gown, cupping her breast and squeezing it gently. ‘Like this?’ he asked. Wendy gasped, and abandoned all pretence at holding her robe. ‘Or like this?’ Hector continued, sliding his hand over her stomach and down between her thighs.

‘Ohhh…’ Wendy sank backwards so that her head was resting on the arm of the sofa. Her naked body felt exposed and disconcertingly vulnerable, so she closed her eyes tightly and hoped against hope that she was doing what Hector wanted, and that he wouldn’t be disappointed or find her unattractive or worse still, too easy…

Then he must have got to his feet, because he was lifting her legs up on to the seat until she was lying full length, and he was kissing her shins and her knees
(her knees?)
with little warm dry nibbles of his lips. She lay still, trying to relax, mystified, but already won over by the unaccustomed sensations and her unbelievable delight in the knowledge that at long last it really was
Hector
who was making love to her… His hands crept up her legs, fondling them, easing them apart. Wendy squirmed and, relinquishing all prudish thoughts, prepared to abandon herself completely to anything and everything that he might expect of her.

But, just as he was about to lower himself on top of her, he appeared to be having second thoughts. He paused. Wendy, roused prematurely from her rapturous trance, opened both eyes and held her breath in suspense.

‘You’re so beautiful, cariad,’ Hector began, ‘but I’m sorry, I haven’t brought… you see, I didn’t expect… I mean, we mustn’t take any chances…

‘Oh…’ Wendy almost laughed with relief. ‘Is that all? Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.’ She made her voice sound as casually convincing as she could. ‘You see, I’m still on the pill.’ She looked up at him with love.

‘You are?’ Hector smiled broadly. ‘You wonderful woman, you! Now are you warm enough, or would this be a good moment for us to move over on to that rug in front of the fire? I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it a bit awkward and cramped here. Yes? Good… Now then, mmmmmm… where were we?’

*

When Hector had realised what was afoot at Wendy’s, he had been well and truly taken aback. He had never even contemplated her as a possible conquest. She was – well to put it kindly – not quite up to the mark in the brains department. She would certainly be no good as a prospective mother; her children might be as thick as she was! This had completely debarred her from consideration, since Hector was unwilling (these days) to waste precious time on dalliance. It had to be the real thing. Then he remembered all the time he had expended on that Caroline woman, and it occurred to him that he was owed a bit of fun, especially as it was so obviously on offer. He wondered as he began to touch her, whether Wendy had fancied him for some time? The idea appealed to him. She has a good mouth for a gift-horse, he thought, kissing it; not brood-mare material, but a tasty little filly nevertheless. Then suddenly, shrinkingly, he remembered that he had no means of contraception to hand. He’d almost convinced himself with his own vasectomy story! Now that would be ironic, he thought wryly. So with great reluctance he’d had to make himself stop just as it was getting damply interesting. But then she’d laughed and had reassured him that she was on the pill, and in his relief and enthusiasm (and in spite of knowing he was absolutely knackered) he’d got carried away and had gone right through his entire repertoire, all in the one night. Somehow Hector felt, when one was doing it simply for fun rather than for serious procreative purposes, one could be much more relaxed and inventive…

Then, just before he had slumped off her, quite exhausted, he had allowed a preliminary verdict –
Bit passive, but OK as a stopgap?
– to wander idly through his head, before falling deeply into a sticky, satiated sleep for the remainder of the night.

In the morning he felt different altogether. He woke with a start and wondered where the hell he was. Then Wendy turned over sleepily and woke too, with a little gasp of excitement and pleasure. Oh Christ! Hector thought, wishing immediately that he could deflate her and pack her away out of sight in a convenient box, until the next time his sex drive got the better of his critical faculties. He shuddered. God forbid! Then to avoid having to talk to her, he reached over
to her bedside radio and switched on the news. Flooding in Somerset was the top story.

‘Jesus!’ he cried, and shot out of bed. ‘SHIT!’

‘Wha?’

‘I’ve only been missing the drama of the decade!’

‘But you’re not s’posed to be working… this weekend?’

Hector had great trouble in convincing Wendy of the urgency of his situation; that at a time like this, no self-respecting journalist could consider himself off duty. And now here he was with no trousers, no notebook, no
car
even, and a great elemental story wasting away out there in his absence. He switched the radio off before the end of the news and said abruptly, ‘Look I’m sorry, Wendy, but I’ve really got to GO. So if you could just slip over to my flat now and get me some clothes; the trousers and shirt and jacket are on the chair, by my bed, shoes of course, and socks in the bottom drawer. Here’s the keys. It’s the ground floor of the house. OK?’

‘’Nother cuddle…’ Wendy said sleepily, reaching for him.

‘NO!’

He finally persuaded her to go, and then waited for what seemed an age for her to return with his things. When she did so, he was pleasantly surprised to find that she had got it right, even down to matching socks, a jersey and a tie. He took them from her briskly, and dumped them in a heap on the bedroom carpet while he dressed.

‘Yours is quite a small flat, isn’t it?’ she remarked.

‘Yes.’ Hector was struggling into his trousers.

‘And it’s rather dark. I reckon it could do with a bit of painting up.’

‘Mmm. ‘He picked the jersey up off the floor and pulled it over his head.

‘I could go over and do it for you, if you like?’

‘What?’

‘Decorating. I’m quite good at it. I did this place all by myself; only finished the lounge a month ago, and it looks nice, doesn’t it?’

‘Can’t say I noticed really,’ Hector said, putting on his shoes and doing up the laces. ‘And anyway, I hope I won’t be in that grotty flat for long. I’ll be buying myself a proper house soon. Right!’ He stood up straight. ‘I can’t tell you how much
better I feel to be properly dressed again. Now, how about running me to my car?’

Later as Hector, alone again, drove the Jaguar away from the deserted car park, he squirted the washers and put the wipers on to clear the smoked-glass effect of the previous night’s salt spray, and reached for his car phone to get in touch with his News Editor. I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do, he thought; to Nigel, to the wretched costume hirers, even to Jess, who’s probably been out all night getting epic photos. I only hope Wendy has the sense to keep her mouth shut. I really do not want it noised abroad that she and I…

A nasty thought struck him. I hope to goodness she isn’t expecting a repeat performance? No, she’ll understand that it was just a one-off office party thing – surely? Now, I must make up for lost time…

Some months later, Hector would look back on the rest of that day and realise that it had been fate all along. He had been meant to go to the village hall the day
after
the flood, when everyone was beginning to get used to what had happened, and were therefore more open to telling the tale. If he had been there the night before, they would understandably have been tired, wet, cross, scared, and probably in no mood to talk to him. As it was, he got some first rate stuff, but better still, he met the ultimate contender for the rank and position of Mrs H. Mudgeley. She might have been born especially! It was love at first sight; there was no denying it. Hector had never felt quite so carried away by a woman. He didn’t even bother to go through his mental list of ‘essential wifely qualities’. There was no need. She was perfect! I must take care, he admonished himself. I must be… cool… That was the word her son had used, when he had given him his surprisingly articulate account of the drama. Hector thought, now I mustn’t rush things…

Nevertheless, he found his writing hand was clumsy, making his shorthand even less decipherable than usual, and the hand holding the notebook trembled as he took down her story. She and the boy had been alone in their cottage beside the Levels when the floods had struck. They had been asleep, and then they’d heard the water pouring in. They had no telephone. They’d had to jump from the back bedroom window
on to a shed roof, and from there, climb into the boy’s tree house where they’d waited hours to be rescued. They had no relatives in the area; nowhere else to go…

‘It all sounds quite dreadful,’ Hector said to her. ‘You must have been so frightened?’

‘No,’ she said, giving him a Mona Lisa smile. ‘I’m never frightened. There’s no point.’

Wendy looked up hopefully every time someone came in through the swing doors and passed Reception. Hector was never usually this late on a Monday. He couldn’t be ill – he’d been bursting with rude health only the morning before! Wendy smiled to herself, but carefully so that the other girl on the desk with her wouldn’t see and get nosy. There would be plenty of time to talk openly about Hector and herself – maybe when she had a ring to show off? – but in the meantime it was a wonderful secret.

Only one small cloud was crossing the clear sky of her contentment and causing her a brief frown. She was worried that Hector would be cross with her about the gorilla suit. It really hadn’t been part of her plan to ruin it. She had genuinely wanted to dry it for him, but of course in the end it had turned out to be a real piece of luck; the whole idea had worked like magic! She was however a little concerned about what the theatrical costume-hire place would have to say. Not only had the suit been shrunk to uselessness, but the gorilla head had been missing from the bonnet of Hector’s car when she had taken him back to it yesterday morning. Someone had nicked it! Would they make him pay the full replacement price? Should she offer to chip in?

No, she thought, Hector wouldn’t allow that. He’s a real gentleman – even if he does want to do rather dodgy things in bed… I’m not a prude, Wendy thought, justifying herself, and it isn’t the first time I’ve been to bed with a man, but I do think that sort of thing ought to be on the level. I don’t really like anything… funny…

So between looking out for him, and taking classified ads from members of the public, and answering the telephone, Wendy day-dreamed about the future and wondered what Hector would do next. Poor love – he really did need a woman
to look after that flat – and him. And what about Christmas? He had seemed a little gruff yesterday when they had woken up together, and he hadn’t phoned or been to see her since. Perhaps in spite of being such a man of the world, he was shy? The idea both charmed and amused her.

‘Share the joke?’ Barry suggested in passing, ‘and a crisp?’ He proffered a packet of prawn flavour.

‘No thanks,’ Wendy said. ‘I’ve got to keep my figure for my new man,’ and she smiled even more broadly, because this time it was true.

‘Please yourself,’ Barry said. ‘Hector get his keys back OK?’ ‘Oh yes,’ Wendy said. ‘No problem.’

Jess came past at that moment and stopped to collect her messages. ‘By the way, Barry,’ she said. ‘You lost your bet over H.M. and Caroline Moffat, so you’d better pay up the ten pounds you owe me!’

‘How d’you know?’

‘Caroline’s a friend of mine. She told me. Apparently the relationship crashed even before take-off. And while we’re on the subject of Hector, where the hell is he?’ she asked. Barry shrugged.

‘What bet?’ Wendy enquired. Barry told her. ‘Oh,’ Wendy said loftily, ‘I could have told you nothing would come of that. Hector doesn’t go for her type at all.’ Then she saw identical frowns on both Jess and Barry’s faces, and burst into giggles. She heard Jess say to Barry as they walked away, ‘What’s up with our Wendy today then?’ and heard with satisfaction Barry’s reply, ‘Dunno. She’s totally out of her cage isn’t she?’