‘So, the sperm donor would consider extending his enabling role?’ Geoff interrupts from a slumped position. ‘He’d consider contributing financially to the upbringing of any offspring, would he?’ He’s breathing noisily, a sure sign he is having difficulty restraining himself.
His daughter’s hackles are also raised. ‘He’s not going to be just the sperm donor, Dad, haven’t you listened to anything? He’ll be a normal father. Kind of. We’re going to—’ She hesitates, takes pity on him. ‘We’re going to try conceiving in the same way you did. Or like I assume you did, not having been there at the time.’
‘Ever heard of a turkey baster?’ Geoff mutters under his breath.
‘Just suck it up, Dad, okay?’ Daisy looks at her watch and raps out a quick text on her phone.
Viv gives Geoff another jab on the shin. She says, without conviction, ‘I can see why this idea might seem to have a lot of inbuilt, instant solutions and advantages, darling. But there are rather a lot of issues, aren’t there? To think about. You would have to be … careful of … things.’
‘What about AIDS, for Christ’s sake?’ demands Geoff, voicing one of these things. ‘And all the other unmentionables?’
‘You’re so last century, Dad. He’s getting himself thoroughly checked out. And he’s been off drugs for –’ Daisy shrugs, ‘nearly a year. He only ever tinkered with them. He was never a real addict.’
‘Oh, only a pretend one. So that’s all right then.’
‘Dad, if you can’t deal with it can you just bugger off and fuck yourself?’ Daisy says, mildly.
All that rough trade, Viv is thinking. ‘But he has been rather promiscuous, hasn’t he, darling?’ There have been lurid Adrian stories doing the rounds for years, involving antics that these days sound positively passé. Sailors. Hampstead Heath. Tangier. Public lavatories.
‘Don’t stress, he’ll definitely suspend all his gross-out activities,’ Daisy grins, ‘for the duration.’ Now that the worst is over she is visibly more relaxed. She drains her glass and extends it, like an olive branch, to her father for a top-up.
‘Could you be sure of that?’ Viv asks. ‘What if the duration became – you know, unexpectedly long?’ It hasn’t escaped her notice that they are using different tenses in this evasive discussion (and Daisy is not normally given to euphemisms). Where she and Geoff are saying could or would, Daisy is saying can and will. She has made up her mind. This is merely a formality to put us in the picture. She’s really determined to do this. Daisy and Adrian. Daisy, Adrian, grandchild.
‘He’s cool with whatever it takes, Mum. Look, I know there are minor downsides, okay? But he’s given me his word. He’s given me,’ funereal voice, ‘a solemn undertaking. We’ve discussed everything.’ She smiles at Viv and Jules, a blithe, sunny smile. It places her suddenly and poignantly, in her mother’s eyes, in the full bloom of youth’s heedless optimism. ‘We’ve covered all the bases. Pretty much every downside you could think of.’
Her parents doubt that. Each thinks they could rustle up a whole bunch of downsides that have not occurred to Daisy.
‘His word?’ Geoff mutters. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could kick him, is the unmissable implication. And Viv finds she has some sympathy with it. To be honest (an annoying phrase she is more drawn to than ever before) she identifies with it more than she cares to admit.
13
DIFFICULT CONVERSATIONS
In the sweaty environs of the gym, Viv is contemplating daily life. Its problems seem to have expanded lately. Trying to come to grips with these takes her mind off the boredom of the repetitions. As she moves from the treadmill to the rowing machine she is in deep thought – deep in what Joy calls the cocoon of middle-class worry – about Daisy and her future. And also, in the wake of a brief exchange at breakfast this morning, about Geoff’s opinion of Julia.
Last night the doorbell rang twice, just after Daisy had declined ice cream with her fruit salad. That would be Adrian, he’d been drinking nearby in Primrose Hill, she explained casually. At Heggers’ place. He was coming to pick her up.
‘Does Heggers live in Primrose Hill?’ Viv asked. She was feeling slightly punch-drunk, and knew this sensation would endure for some time.
‘Yeah, with Venetia, his child bride. They’re childless – but going at it hammer and tongs, so probably not for long,’ Daisy responded fluently, on her way to the front door. ‘We’re all having a race to the finish.’ There was the sound, rather unnerving to those left behind at the table, of unrestrained laughter in the hall. Then Daisy returned leading Adrian by the hand.
Neither Viv, Geoff nor Jules had set eyes on Adrian for some time. Not since the wedding of Daisy’s best friend Alyse seven years ago. Daisy’s parents were forcibly reminded of his impact as he surged, dripping, through the doorway, apologising for bringing the warring elements inside (It’s a cyclone out there, people!) and kissing the women with every appearance of pleasure (What a treat – you guys haven’t changed a bit, how do you do it?) before shaking Geoff’s manifestly reluctant hand.
If he had any inkling of Geoff’s feelings, and Viv guessed he had every inkling, he didn’t show it. He was behaving with the relaxed social ease that a very expensive education gives you, she thought, albeit to a flagrant degree. She had forgotten quite what a force of nature Adrian was. Charismatic in that risky way, like the Rolling Stones before they really went to seed. In his case, though, this was shot through with racy humour. A satirical attitude could derail a good many prejudices but not, she feared, her husband’s. His visceral antipathy would be glaringly obvious to anyone.
Adrian’s flamboyant brand of rakishness might be dated, but you could see, only too well, how it might appeal to the impressible of both sexes. Viv left Geoff out of this – his unimpressibility was never in doubt – but where did it leave Daisy? Watching Adrian, Viv felt that he compelled you to take up a position. You were either for him or against. Did one really want such a polarising figure on the fringes of one’s family?
On the fringes? What am I thinking? He’s potentially right in there. She caught Julia’s eye. Jules was consuming a small helping of fruit salad, a teaspoon at a time. She wore a bland expression that reminded Viv, distractingly, of Dev.
‘We’re not staying,’ Daisy warned, but Adrian had pulled up another chair and was lounging, with his elbows (leather patches on a chunky rollneck sweater) on the table. He looked like a rather dangerous male model. Viv put a plate in front of him. Would he like some fruit salad and ice cream?
‘No, he wouldn’t,’ said Daisy promptly, ‘he’s already eaten.’ But he was already helping himself (Green tea and fig and honey? How divine. Both, please, Vivien. Excess in all things!) and dumping dollops on Daisy’s plate for good measure.
‘Come on, darling, it’ll do you good. We need to build you up for the ordeal that may lie ahead. She’s gorgeous, right?’ directed at the table, ‘but she’s a bit too skinny, wouldn’t you say?’ He surveyed them all nonchalantly. ‘So, what do you think of our little plan? Do you love it, or does it give you the screaming heebie-jeebs?’ His eyes rested on Geoff for a second, before reverting swiftly to Viv.
‘Don’t bring that up, it’s mean,’ Daisy interrupted, with her mouth full. ‘It’s all a bit overwhelming and revolutionary, they need time to get used to it.’ She saw her father’s face. ‘Or grin and bear it and get over it, hopefully, and move on.’
Geoff reached for the coffee plunger in the moment’s silence that followed. He regarded Adrian through narrowed eyes. ‘The roads are slippery. Are you proposing to drive to – where is it – Chelsea?’ He poured Adrian a long black. ‘The police have been cracking down on boozers around here.’
‘Dad, you’re regressing,’ Daisy remonstrated at once. ‘You don’t do that anymore, remember? Not to your grown-up daughter’s mature friends.’ Viv thought this was quite restrained, considering. She knew what Geoff was thinking: but you’re my little girl, and you always will be. She knew th
is because she was thinking the same thing.
Adrian looked unperturbed. Geoff shouldn’t worry because he was behaving himself now, being boringly abstemious and beyond reproach. He was gearing himself up for the mature, grown-up (a wink at Daisy) responsibilities life may be conspiring to throw at him. Now he was a potential baby daddy he was desperate to become a role model, as Daisy would confirm. He’d go down with the ship. He was thinking of buying a business shirt and voting.
He swilled his coffee and licked the last skerrick of ice cream off his spoon. Observing this, Daisy dragged him out of the chair he was showing every sign of having settled into. ‘Nobody wants to discuss the plan right now except you. At least,’ she grinned, ‘I expect they’re itching to discuss it but they can’t, not with your big ears flapping. Come on, we’re going home.’
Daisy proceeded to kiss each of her parents in an unusually tender manner that conveyed a degree of compunction. Viv wondered if going home had pierced Geoff in the same way. To the heart, most probably, she felt.
Jules would explain why the plan was a good idea much better than she could, Daisy informed her mother loudly in the hall, as Adrian helped her into her coat. Jules, in response to Geoff’s glare, said she would stay for a short debrief. No more drinks because she had a wardrobe fitting tomorrow.
‘He assured me he would drive carefully,’ Viv told her husband, as they drew up armchairs around the fire in the sitting room. She thought that Geoff (pouring himself a large brandy) looked more shattered than she felt. All she could say for certain about her state of mind was that she felt vaguely unsettled. Which was enough to be going on with.
Geoff dumped the brandy balloon on the coffee table and put his head in his hands. ‘Can you explain to me using words of one syllable how this is a good idea, Jules, because I can’t see it. Quite frankly it sounds like a recipe for disaster.’
Julia said she thought they had to try very hard to see it from Daisy’s point of view. Daisy’s pov was driven by the biological clock. This was proof positive of God’s fundamental misogyny, but they were stuck with it. Here was an old friend (a groan from Geoff) who was conveniently on tap, as it were. Someone Daisy knew inside out and loved (a prolonged groan) – loved platonically, Geoff – someone loaded, moreover, who was willing, indeed very keen, to become a father—
‘You mean a baby daddy.’
‘Forget that, it’s just the ghastly current term they use.’
‘Who’s gay, moreover—’
‘Who doesn’t present as particularly gay,’ Jules said. ‘He was looking very Ralphy Lauren, I thought. Of course, that may have been deliberate.’
Geoff, who’d been holding himself in check, exploded. ‘Who gives a fuck how he presents? For fuck’s sake – if it quacks like a duck and does ducky things, and it’s a bloody layabout to boot …’ He swilled his brandy.
Jules said the Geoff she knew and loved (platonically) was not normally homophobic or prone to vulgarisms. This was something of a special situation, she understood that, but Geoff had to be prepared to meet it halfway.
‘God knows I’m trying. I’m trying to meet it so bloody halfway I’m crashing into myself. But why the hell do they have to—? Will you explain that to me, Jules? Why can’t he just go into one of those places where they have porno magazines full of rubber and—’
‘Oh, for crying out loud, Geoff.’ Now it was Jules’s turn to be exasperated. ‘Be sensible – why would they have rubber porn in sperm donor places? Look, Adrian’s a very dishy man, whatever side of the fence you happen to sit on. They’ve probably been secretly lusting after each other for years. I think Daisy sees that side of it as a bit of a lark.’
Secretly lusting? A bit of a lark? That was it, Geoff said wearily, he’d had enough, he was going to bed. He wasn’t up to any more debriefing, he might do things he’d regret later. He’d leave them to it. They’d be much happier without his inhibiting presence.
‘So, you find Adrian dishy, do you, Jules?’ yelled from the landing. ‘That follows.’ Viv toyed with the idea of going after him. She hovered indecisively, then sat down again.
Jules looked contrite. ‘I’m sorry, Viv. That didn’t go well. Poor Geoff, he can’t cope with the idea of them having sex, can he?’ Viv said that was understandable. A lot of men found the idea of their daughter having sex difficult, even at the best of times. Even with a charming, ideal young man who met all their preconceived criteria. The kind Daisy had never brought home – or not since Heggers.
‘Heggers? That pain in the arse?’ It had been a rackety evening, but Jules was still quick on the uptake. Well, it might be tricky for men like Geoff, she supposed, for all sorts of reasons one didn’t necessarily want to go into now. Then there was the added prospect of having Adrian as the father of his grandchild. Not his son-in-law, not his daughter’s boyfriend or partner – how would you introduce him, apart from anything else?
‘Like he said, as Daisy’s baby daddy,’ said Viv shortly. She thought: he will never care how we introduce him. Or what we think of him either. ‘Did you try to talk her out of it?’
Jules said she’d had to wing it when Daisy arrived with her news. She soon realised that Daisy had already made up her mind, and what she was looking for was validation.
‘Did you validate, then?’
Jules lifted placating hands. ‘What can you do? Daisy’s an adult, and she’s well and truly her own person.’ This was undeniable, Viv had to admit. ‘It’s not ideal, she’d be the first to agree with that, but it’s a pragmatic course of action. She’s decided to be proactive about getting something she really wants, instead of blindly relying on chance, or fate if you like.’
‘And risk leaving it too late.’ Like I did, for her brother or sister.
‘Let’s face it, Viv, your Daisy is a very determined young woman. She may be her own person, but she’s her mother’s daughter. As indeed are you; never forget that.’
Viv had always tended to think of Daisy as a being apart, and herself as similarly removed from her own mother. But she and Judith must have contributed something to Daisy’s character. More than she took into account?
Of course, the present situation could change, Jules continued. Daisy might think better of it, or she might meet someone better. They might find they were hopeless at living together. They might be hopeless at getting it on together. Technical hitches of this ilk were on the cards.
She lifted her hair. ‘There could be any number of spanners in the works, that’s the truth of the matter, Viv. And even if they do get it on together—’
‘The object of the exercise may not eventuate,’ Viv said dourly, ‘and she may not get pregnant at all.’
The truth of the matter, she was inclined to think, was that Jules had stopped short of outright encouragement but had been supportive. And she couldn’t argue with that. Although, to be honest, she was trying to cope with an unfamiliar feeling of solidarity with her husband.
Geoff had been sound asleep and emitting bellicose snores when she came to bed. He was taciturn at breakfast, to start with. But then he’d asked, quite aggressively, about the rest of her conversation with Julia. No doubt Jules had managed to wriggle out of any semblance of responsibility for this lunacy?
Well, it was a bit unclear, Viv said. It sounded as if Jules had avoided giving any advice because she knew Daisy didn’t want to hear any and wouldn’t have taken it anyway. And you couldn’t blame—
‘She wouldn’t have advised against it,’ Geoff interrupted loudly. ‘She would have egged Daisy on.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because this crazy business with Adrian is the kind of tawdry alternative set-up Jules finds irresistible.’
‘Rather unorthodox, do you mean? What makes you think she finds—’
‘Oh, she’s drawn to it. Jules always had a nose for dirty laundry. You’re not attracted to that stuff, so you don’t notice it, but she is. That’s the difference between you.’ He left the ta
ble, clattering his breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. Viv had stared after him, taken aback by this outburst. Geoff had always had trouble with Jules’s more libertarian views, and this development with Adrian had made him overreact. It would blow over.
And how would Geoff feel if the object of Daisy’s exercise does not eventuate, she wonders, as she waits for an unfit elderly man to disengage himself from the abdominal-crunch machine. She is nearing the end of the circuit and doesn’t mind waiting. She dislikes most gym machines, this one in particular.
As she hooks her shins in position her phone vibrates: Martin Glover. It comes as a pleasant reprieve. In the changing room she calls Martin back. He is pleased to relate he has another candidate for her appraisal. Not a younger model this time. Well, that’s a blessed relief, says Viv. No, it’s someone her own age. Seems like an agreeable chap. A lawyer.
A lawyer?
Does that surprise you? It does rather, but then again Viv doesn’t know why it should. She can’t think of any reason why lawyers shouldn’t avail themselves of Discretion’s services, any more than people in hospitality, like Dev.
Or any more than artsy-fartsy types, says Martin equably. So I can pass on your number? You’re not one of those who would kill all the lawyers? Certainly not, she says. Not all of them.
Speaking of Dev, has she managed to talk to him yet, by any chance?
No, but she’ll do it today, if Martin still thinks it’s a good idea. Because there’s something else she hadn’t told him. Something a friend pointed out. This friend has a nose for – Viv substitutes unconventionality for dirty laundry. The friend thinks that Dev is not looking for something on the side. He’s looking for a sugar mummy.
Of course, this was never going to work with me, she explains. I’m not nearly wealthy enough to haul my toy boy off on endless luxury cruises. And I wouldn’t want to if I was. In fact, I can’t think of anything worse, to be honest.
Martin says he can see this match-up was not made in heaven. He and Dev need to talk this through, clearly. It’s sounding very much as if Dev would do better elsewhere. No doubt there are women actively interested in this kind of arrangement, but he doesn’t think any of them have ever fetched up at his modest facility.
The Age of Discretion Page 15