Trouble (13 page)

‘But that’s rock and roll. You’ll hate it.’

‘The kids will love it. That’s the main thing. I can’t impose my tastes on others all the time.’

‘Does that mean you’ll give the staff back their coffee machine?’

‘Probably. It’s only gone for cleaning. But it does them good to live in suspense a little. Keeps them on their toes.’

‘I see,’ said Annette.

‘How are you feeling, sweetheart?’ asked Spicer, settling in to talk.

‘I’m just fine, Spicer.’

‘I knew you would be. I’m glad we got all that out of our systems. We’re going to make a go of things, aren’t we, Annette.’

‘Of course, Spicer. I never doubted it.’

‘Dr Rhea has been a great help to me. It upset me when you got so paranoid about her. It made me feel you didn’t really love me.’

‘I do love you, Spicer.’

‘Dr Rhea really liked you, Annette. She says if it helps to get you back in balance, and I can handle it, then I can postpone treatment for a month or so, until after the baby’s born. But you would need to go back to Dr Herman: one of us has to be working towards equilibrium.’

‘But I thought Dr Herman was away?’

‘He came back unexpectedly. Rhea can make the appointment.’

‘The trouble is, Spicer, I think it was seeing Dr Herman which so upset my equilibrium.’

‘Rhea thinks it will be difficult for you to go through the parturition process unless you come to terms with your own tendency to sexual fantasy. That was quite an episode to which you subjected us all.’

‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry. Did you see Dr Rhea this morning?’

‘Yes,’ said Spicer.

‘Did you tell her about last night?’

‘Annette, don’t begin again. Please.’

‘I’m sorry, Spicer,’ said Annette.

‘So, what do you say about Dr Herman?’ asked Spicer.

‘I would rather wait to see him until after the baby’s born, Spicer. But I promise to see him after.’

‘Okay,’ said Spicer. ‘It’s a deal. We’ll both give the therapists a rest. Just you and me; the mountain and the tree. It’s an early show tonight. We’ll be back by nine. I’ll bring back some champagne. Shall we have one of our special suppers, to celebrate?’

‘What are we celebrating, Spicer?’

‘Oh God, darling, everything.’

‘My book?’

‘Annette, don’t provoke.’

‘Sorry, sorry. We’ll leave the book out of it. An accidental outcrop on the mountain, not true female creativity: not proper soil for the tree.’

‘You’re learning, my sweetheart. I really liked your analogy to Samson and Delilah. It quite turned me on. I think Wendy’s coming back. We’ll have to stop now. Tell you what, Annette—’

‘What, Spicer?’

‘Steak would be going too far, but we could have lamb cutlets for supper.’

‘Red meat, Spicer! How wicked—how wonderful—’

‘Bye, my sweetheart,’ said Spicer.

‘Is that you, Annette?’

‘Yes. Who’s that?’

‘It’s Marion. You know, Ernie’s Marion. That’s how people know me, I don’t understand why. Perhaps it’s because I’m so much younger than him. No one takes me seriously. I have a crystal which is supposed to help with that kind of thing. A rose crystal. It increases self-esteem.’

‘Does it really?’

‘It’s meant to, but you’re supposed to leave crystals overnight in running water in the full moon if they’re really going to work, and whenever I remember the full moon’s always been and gone. I used to wash them in the little lead fountain in Queen Elizabeth’s Rose Garden, but because there’s an official drought they’ve had to shut it down, and I don’t think tap water works. Anyway, my self-esteem isn’t up to much at the moment.’

‘I’m really sorry, Marion.’

‘That’s not why I’m calling, though. It’s just I was doing your Tarot cards and they came up with all these frightful things. First the Tower—all that red and black, with all those bodies falling from it; then that awful card with the man lying flat on his front with seven swords skewering him through; and then I turned up Death, though everyone says that really means life; I can’t think why. So I just thought I’d call and say please be careful, Annette: stepping out into traffic, that kind of thing. None of it means anything: just do be careful.’

‘Marion, why on earth were you doing my Tarot cards?’

‘Well, Ernie and I had a row, and he told me he’d had affairs with all his lady authors under forty and I asked if that included you and he said yes, and after that he denied it, so I didn’t know what to think. You’re supposed to be able to find out the truth from the cards, so I consulted them. One has a right to the truth.’

‘I certainly haven’t had an affair with Ernie, Marion,’ said Annette, ‘nor would I ever. I’m happily married to Spicer.’

‘Spicer comes and talks to me sometimes, Annette.’

‘Does he?’ asked Annette. ‘What do you mean, talks?’

‘Just talk, Annette. He knows I get lonely and the office is just round the corner from us. And Ernie is away so often, off with all his lady authors under forty for all I know, and Spicer and you have your troubles, and he needs to talk about them. Everyone has to have someone to talk to. But I do get kind of worried sometimes in case you’d mind. Women should stick together. I feel better, already. There’s nothing in it. I love
Lucifette Fallen.
What a brilliant title. Ernie gave me a proof copy to read. Is it really about your family life? Your mother and father? It must have been really gruelling. Poor you. I’m always sorry for the children in this kind of thing.’

‘Aren’t we all,’ said Annette.

‘I gave the book to this friend of mine,’ said Marion. ‘An astrologer, to see what she thought of it. She did this review for
New Astrology.
I’ll send it on to you.’

‘Dr Rhea Marks?’

‘Yes. How did you know? God, she’s brilliant. She has proper medical qualifications along with everything else.’

‘And then the Oprah Winfrey Show picked it up,’ said Annette.

‘Did they? That’s wonderful!’ said Marion. ‘So you’re going to be a TV star! No wonder we’re all so jealous. Things just fall into your lap.’

‘Marion, it was through you that Spicer got to see Dr Marks?’

‘It was me who recommended her, yes,’ said Marion.

‘Does Spicer still come round to talk to you, Marion?’ asked Annette.

‘Not since he started seeing Dr Marks. I rather wish I hadn’t mentioned her,’ said Marion.

‘So now you’re doing the cards and wishing me a road accident,’ said Annette.

‘How could you say anything so awful, Annette?’ said Marion. ‘It isn’t like that at all. It was only the once with Spicer; after that it was just talk: I’ve just felt so guilty: it will never happen again, I promise. I love Ernie with all my heart; I just wish he had more soul, he was open, you know? And I’m sure Spicer loves you, Annette. He kept saying so. He said you had sexual problems. It was hard for him. I just wanted to help. It’ll never happen again.’

‘Okay, Marion, okay,’ said Annette. ‘What’s past is past. Spicer and I are starting again; we’ve all been through a bad patch. Thank you for calling. Really.’

‘Only do be careful,’ said Marion, ‘stepping into the road. Those cards were really dreadful. And don’t be angry with me, Annette. I can’t bear it.’

Annette banged down the phone.

‘On our sides is nice, really nice,’ said Spicer. ‘Worth being pregnant for. Why didn’t we do this before, you missionary you. But turn over on your face now. That’s right. I didn’t use vaseline the other night; I should have. Perhaps I was angry. Yes, perhaps I was. I wanted to hurt. I don’t know. I love you. I’ve given up everything for you, Annette. When I say I love you your insides do such wonderful things. Bring your knees further up now, so I can move up easily from there to here; that’s it: what an easy slippage it is, meant by the Maker. You’re not comfy, I can tell. If I take the pillow from under your face and put it below your breasts above your bump. Keep your head on the side so you can breathe—there, that’s glorious for me—is it comfy for you?’

‘Yes, Spicer. You seem to know such a lot about doing it like this. Is this what Marion taught you? Spicer, please don’t go! I only asked—I thought you’d find it exciting, thinking of her as if she were here too. Isn’t this how your mind works? Where are you going? Don’t leave me like this, now. It’s so humiliating. Spicer? It’s not even as if you can’t. You can but you won’t. Spicer?’

‘This is appalling,’ said Gilda.

‘After that Spicer just went to the spare room. I cried all night. I heard him leave at about six in the morning.’

‘You can’t go on like this,’ said Gilda. ‘You’ll have to go to your mother’s.’

‘That’s defeat,’ said Annette. ‘That’s going back to where you were before you began. It’s just so up and down with Spicer and me at the moment.’

‘You can say that again,’ said Gilda. ‘But drifting downwards all the time. The major drift is to rock bottom, Annette.’

‘I don’t want to think that,’ said Annette. ‘Don’t say it. It isn’t true. Yesterday we all went to a show. The kids loved it. So did I. Spicer pretended to, for our sakes. We were just a normal, happy family, on an outing. For twelve whole hours I was so happy, Gilda. I was so confident. Not even Marion calling and saying what she did could really shake me.’

‘Spicer and Marion! I still can’t believe it.’

‘It was only the once,’ said Annette.

‘Oh yes?’

‘Spicer does end up in bed sometimes with other women if he’s had too much to drink or taken too much coke,’ said Annette. ‘I don’t like it but I have to accept it: it doesn’t mean anything: it’s me he loves.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Gilda.

‘It’s because I’m so bad at sex,’ said Annette. ‘It’s a kind of disability. You can’t blame Spicer. Sex just doesn’t come naturally to me, the way it does to other women. I say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing at the wrong moment and spoil everything. You don’t mind anything Steve does to you, do you?’

‘Steve isn’t Spicer. Steve wants me to be happy,’ said Gilda. ‘He doesn’t care what I do or say or when. It makes no difference. And he’s given in about Leboyer.’

‘I’m so glad,’ said Annette. ‘I’m dreadful. All I do is talk about myself. That’s another thing Spicer has to put up with. I’m so self-centred.’

‘I’d talk about myself if I were you,’ said Gilda.

‘I can’t let go in bed, I expect that’s the trouble,’ said Annette. ‘I can’t stop thinking. I keep wondering if the cat’s been put out or what’s for breakfast.’

‘Then perhaps it’s Spicer who isn’t very good at it.’

‘No, it’s me,’ said Annette. ‘I can’t blame Spicer. Sex makes my mind active. All the energy flies into my head. I hardly ever have orgasms. There, I’ve told you. I’m so upset, Gilda.’

‘I know,’ said Gilda. ‘I can tell.’

‘I was trying to play it Spicer’s way,’ wept Annette. ‘Or I wouldn’t have even mentioned Marion. How was I to know he’d react like that? Only six words: “Is this what Marion taught you?” and your whole life falls to pieces.’

‘I reckon Spicer’s playing games with you, Annette,’ said Gilda. ‘He’s nice for a bit just in order to be nasty. He does it on purpose. He reads you. He presses a button. He knows how you’ll react and he does it deliberately.’

‘But why should he, Gilda?’ asked Annette.

‘Because he’s a sadist,’ said Gilda. ‘It’s how he gets his kicks. And you’re a masochist. Or you wouldn’t put up with it. As for Marion, she’s perfectly capable of making the whole thing up just to upset you.’

‘Why should she do that?’ asked Annette.

‘I don’t know, Annette,’ said Gilda. ‘Perhaps Marion’s found out about you and Ernie and is getting her own back.’

‘Oh God,’ said Annette.

‘There! Caught you!’ said Gilda. ‘I knew I was right about you and Ernie. Why did you deny it in the first place? I’m your friend. It was that time Spicer was at the Bordeaux Wine Feste, wasn’t it? Did you get herpes?’

‘No, I did not. That’s just a disgusting rumour. Industrial espionage probably, put about by other publishers who hate him making money and not being a gentleman. Please, please, keep it to yourself, Gilda. So Spicer could have thought it was just me being paranoid again, by mentioning Marion? That’s why he acted the way he did?’

‘It’s perfectly possible, but how would I know?’

‘Poor Spicer,’ said Annette.

‘I wouldn’t go as far as that, Annette. Just divorce the bastard.’

‘But I love him.’

‘I have to go now,’ said Gilda. ‘Steve’s got the engine running. He sends his love, by the way. Bye, Annette. Look after yourself. Call me tomorrow. I worry about you.’

‘Bye, Gilda. Thanks.’

‘Spicer,’ said Annette.

‘Wendy,’ said Spicer to his secretary, but so that Annette could hear, ‘I did ask you not to put calls through to the office. It’s too bad. Annette, I’m really very busy. Please, please just leave me alone for once.’

‘But Spicer, I have to talk.’

‘Annette,’ said Spicer, ‘I am trying to keep this business afloat. We are in a recession. Try to help, not hinder.’

‘I can’t bear it when you leave in the morning without saying goodbye.’

‘Why don’t you go and stay with your mother for a while?’

‘You know I mentioned Marion last night,’ said Annette, ‘and it seemed to upset you so much?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Annette,’ said Spicer.

‘It’s just that Marion rang me up—’

‘For God’s sake,’ said Spicer. ‘I’m so busy, and here comes the hysteria again. Obsessive sexual jealousy. I’ll be late tonight.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t crowd me, Annette,’ said Spicer. ‘As it happens, I’m seeing Dr Rhea after work. She found time for me. I wish I didn’t have to see her. But since you refuse to see Dr Herman, I have no choice: the tensions get too great: I can’t cope with you without help.’

‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t see Dr Herman,’ said Annette. ‘I just wanted to wait until after the baby was born.’

‘For all I know you’ve invented this baby,’ said Spicer. ‘It’s a hysterical pregnancy which gives you an excuse and an outlet for your hostility to men and your destructiveness towards yourself.’

‘But the baby showed up on the scan, Spicer,’ said Annette. ‘How can it be a hysterical pregnancy? Perhaps you didn’t want it to be a girl, perhaps that’s it?’