by Frances Pye
Besides, Terry never had any cash to spare and Lily had been talking only a few weeks ago about how buying and doing up the house had nearly bankrupted her. She couldn’t have asked them even if she had nothing to hide.
But she could approach Jules. Not for a straight loan, but for a job. Jules was always talking about how hard it was to find responsible temporary staff to help with her parties—surely she’d hire her friend. Amy could look after the girls; even the Moores would approve of her as a baby-sitter. And if Mara worked three or four evenings a week, it should take her only a month to accumulate what she needed.
Or she could ask Jules to advance her the money. Just for a short time while she worked to pay off the debt. There would be no need to mention the true reason for such need—she could tell Jules that she had gotten behind with the bills. Which was true. She was always behind. And as she was going to work to redeem the loan immediately, Jules should accept the excuse that it wouldn’t be true borrowing. Mara couldn’t deceive herself—a debt was always a debt—but she was getting desperate. Who knew how long she had before the Moores made their next move?
“SHE WON’T be long now. Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”
“No. Thank you. I’m fine.” Mara tried to smile at Claire, Jules’s efficient, smartly dressed assistant. But it felt more like a grimace. If only she didn’t feel so out of place. Her secondhand T-shirt and threadbare cotton skirt didn’t exactly complement Jules’s plush outer office with its pale wood furniture and huge vases of lilies. She shoved her hands under her thighs to stop herself fidgeting and hoped her nerves didn’t show. She’d only been waiting for ten minutes or so but it felt like hours. She knew she should have made an appointment, but she hadn’t wanted to explain her visit over the phone and so had decided to drop in. Of course, Jules was busy, having a meeting. Claire had offered to interrupt her, but Mara insisted on waiting; as she’d come to ask a favor, she didn’t think she should be getting in the way of her friend’s business.
The door to the inner office opened. A tall, blond man in his forties carrying a stuffed leather briefcase and a couple of box files came out, Jules behind him.
“Claire, Dennis is coming back next week for another couple of hours.” Jules walked up to her assistant’s desk. “Tuesday, you said, Dennis? How are we in the afternoon?”
“I’ll have to postpone Lady Ruffington….”
“Do it. Maybe I can see her for a drink later. We’ve got to sort out the books or I will be in trouble.”
Dennis leaned down and kissed Jules on the cheek. “’Bye, love. See you then.”
“’Bye.” Jules turned to go back into her office and saw Mara perched on an overstuffed ottoman in a corner of the room.
“Mara! How wonderful! Claire, why didn’t you tell me?” Jules rushed over to Mara and put her arms around her. “You haven’t been waiting long? Come on, into the inner sanctum. Claire, can we have some coffee?” And, chattering away, Jules led Mara into her office.
The small, discreet, laptop computer sitting on her desk was the only concession to contemporary living in the room. Jules had always hated the sterility of modern offices and the moment she could afford her own had been determined to make it an appealing place to be. After all, if she was going to spend the greater part of her life there, she might as well enjoy it. And gray machines, cream walls, and neutral carpet made her feel depressed. The moment she could manage it, she had bought some stylish patterned sofas, some fashionable 1920s lamps, and a beautiful Victorian keyhole desk. Added to the original nineteenth-century flower drawings on the walls, and the collection of antique wine bottles and corkscrews scattered around the shelves, and she had a handsome, relaxing room in which she loved spending time. And which impressed her clients. The general consensus seemed to be that a woman who chose to work in an office like that must be good at creating the kind of party mood desired.
Jules waved Mara to one of the sofas, sat down opposite her, and fell back against the cushions. “Gosh, what a relief. It’s a wonder I can still see straight after all that.”
“I’m sorry. You’re tired. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Silly. Of course you should. You’re a very welcome sight. I needed cheering up. And here you are. The answer to a businesswoman’s prayer.”
“A bad day?”
“The worst. Three hours going over the books. And he’s coming back next week. Sometimes I wonder what possessed me to start a company.”
“Jules! You love it.”
“Not today, I don’t. A meeting with Dennis isn’t pleasure, it’s duty.” The mention of pleasure made Jules think of Sean. And wonder if she should mention Lily’s scheme to Mara. But her friend had been so upset by the idea when it was first mooted…. “He’s a pest with all his forward projections and revenue flows and tax assessments.”
“Everything’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes.” Well, it would be when Sean had agreed to give her what she wanted.
“Dunne Parties is doing well?”
“We’re doing ama…” Jules ground to halt, realizing that it would be unkind of her to go on about the astounding year she was having and the stunning number of bookings that had already been made for the next one when Mara was so broke she was forced to wear clothes Jules wouldn’t have used as rags. She chose her next words carefully. “So-so,” she said. “We’ll be all right.”
Mara was shocked. Jules’s company had always seemed to be thriving. “But I thought…A few years ago, when Jake was…You were doing so well.”
“It’s a hard business. Lots of competition.” All of which was true. If not really relevant.
“Jules. I’m sorry.” Mara had little knowledge of businesses and books and accountants. But she could read between the lines and it was clear her hope of help had vanished. She couldn’t ask Jules now, not when she was in trouble herself. “Will you be all right?”
“Course I will. These things never last forever. Trends change.” Jules looked at Mara’s concerned face and wished she hadn’t started with this. But she couldn’t change things now, she’d have to explain why she’d minimized her success in the first place. And that would be more hurtful than her boasting about her bumper year could ever have been.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“That’s so sweet of you, but I’ll be fine.” Jules was mortified. Here was Mara offering to help her when she was raking in the profits and Mara was the one who needed assistance and would never accept it. Guilt-stricken, she moved to change the subject. “Now. Tell me what you’re doing in Chelsea. I thought you never left Chiswick during the day.”
Mara tried to think of something she might have had to do in Chelsea. That Jules would believe. And that wasn’t a lie. “I…I…Moo needs a new pair of shoes. And…and they’ve got a sale on…in King’s Road….”
eighteen
“Well, I suppose someone’s got to start this. Here goes.” Terry, remarkable in a glam-rock-era shimmering gold shirt over pale, patched jeans, looked across at Sean, standing about twenty feet away just outside the French windows, keeping an eye on the meat on the barbecue.
Despite Lily’s efforts with a hose, her garden had that dried and dusty, end-of-summer look. A month of heat had left the last remaining flowers drooping, the trees brown at the edges, and the lawn more like a yellowing, grassless cricket pitch than the smooth expanse of green it had been at the beginning of the season. It was Saturday and Lily had organized a small party. Ostensibly just for fun, to take advantage of the last warm days of the year. But really to give Terry and Jules a chance to advance the plan.
“Would you like me to go first?” Jules said, smiling at an ill-at-ease Terry.
“Will you? I’m no good at this. Look at me, I can’t stop shaking.” Terry held out a far from steady left hand. “You’d think I’d been on the ale.”
“Ale? You? I’d adore to see that. Don’t worry. I’ll start.” Jules drew herself up, pasted her
society smile on her face, and strolled across the garden, winking at Lily as she passed her.
The smoke from grilling sausages and burgers hovered over the barbecue. Eyes watering, Sean leaned in with his tongs and started flipping.
“Could you do with some help?” Jules sounded unhurried, calm, as if this were nothing more than a toss-away conversation, unimportant and meaningless. When underneath she was a desperate, seething mass of apprehension and fear, terrified by the thought that this might all go wrong. That she might not get her sperm.
Sean swung around. “No. I mean, thanks, it’s almost done.”
“Good. So we can get to know each other a little better. I’m delighted you and Lily are seeing each other again.” No need to explain why. At least, not yet.
“Me too.”
“You look like such a nice couple. Gosh, listen to me. I sound like my mother. But you know what I mean.”
Sean grinned. He was beginning to see past the facts of her background and the oh-so-confident manner and relax. Maybe it was the casual shorts and T-shirt she was wearing. “Thanks. Is there a Mr. Jules?”
Jules laughed. “That’s a funny way to put it. No. No Mr. Jules.”
“You don’t sound too sad about that.”
What a great opening. “I’m not. Only…” Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly.
“Only what?”
This was too easy. “Oh, nothing. I just need to find a man to help me with a little problem.”
FOUR HOURS later, the barbecue was ashes, the guests had all gone, and Lily and Sean were in Lily’s outsize bath, Lily lying back against Sean’s chest, between his legs, his arms around her.
“I saw you talking to Terry.”
“She’s a great girl.”
“That she is. My best friend.”
“She told me all about her problems with her son.”
“Paul. He’s a nightmare.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Yeah, I think she needs some help there. Did you get to talk to Jules too?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She’s not what I thought. You know, her being upper class and all that. She’s very open, isn’t she? She was…she told me stuff….” Sean’s voice petered out.
“The sperm search?”
Sean was pleased that Lily couldn’t see the blush that spread over his face. “Yes.”
“Hmm. Were you embarrassed?”
“A little, maybe. It seemed an odd thing to be telling a stranger.”
“I suppose they both think they can talk to you cos you’re with me. A friend by extension.”
“Maybe.”
“So did you offer to help?”
“What, me? Me? I never thought…I…”
Lily turned around to face Sean, ignoring the water sloshing over the side of the bath and onto the mottled gray marble floor, and swam up his body until her face was level with his. “Just an idea.” She kissed him, hard on the lips. “Now, to more important matters…”
LILY SAT back in bed, coffee in hand, Sunday papers spread out in front of her, watching her lover as he took his toothbrush and shaving stuff out of a small, leather holdall and walked into the bathroom. She smiled. It had been a great night. Sean was getting better and better at knowing what she wanted before she even asked. Part of her was tempted to ask him to stay for the day. The idea of them lazing around together, reading the papers, going out for lunch, then back to bed in the afternoon was enticing. She almost opened her mouth to suggest it, but stopped herself in time. No. Fun though it might seem now, it would only encourage him. And he’d been so good since they’d got back together. Besides, she had other things to talk to him about.
“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Lily said as he reappeared, face smooth, teeth gleaming.
“Wouldn’t mind what?” Sean sat down next to her and reached out to touch her lips. God, even first thing in the morning she looked sexy. “You’re not ready for more?”
Lily turned her head into his hand and licked the center of his palm. “You helping out my friends. You know, giving Terry a bit of assistance with Paul and Jules some sperm.”
Sean laughed. “I suppose I asked for it, going out with a comedienne.” He leaned over, kissed her on the lips, then got up. “So, Wednesday, then?”
“I’m serious.”
“Lily…”
“I am. You could be the answer to their not-so-maidenly prayers. They need a man. And you’ve got time. And the equipment.”
“Lily, I like your friends—”
“And they like you.”
“That’s nice, but—”
“More important, they need you.”
“No. They need someone. Not me.”
“But you’d be perfect.”
“I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”
“Course you could. Paul already likes you, and we know there’s no problem spermwise.”
“I’m not a one-man solution to all their problems.”
“Why not? You wanted more of me than I could give, maybe they can fill a few of those holes?”
“So they’re to stand in for you, is that it? What the hell do you think I’m about? It’s you I wanted, not some committee.”
“I know. I put that badly. I’m sorry.” Stupid, stupid. She’d gone far too close to the truth there. She pushed covers and papers aside, got up, and walked over to Sean, who was slamming razor and toothbrush and yesterday’s shirt into his bag. She touched his arm, turned him around to face her. “It’s just that I can’t help worrying about them. They’re my friends. They’ve helped me through the worst bits of my life. I want to do something for them, you know, help them too. But I shouldn’t expect you to feel the same way. I’m sorry.”
Sean looked down at Lily and smiled. “I’d like to help, of course I would, they’re your friends, I like them, only…”
“Don’t worry. It’s not your responsibility. Forget we talked about it. Okay?” Lily reached up and smoothed Sean’s hair away from his eyes. “Okay?”
“Is it important to you?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“Okay. Then I’ll think about it. All right?”
“Of course it’s all right. Thank you.”
“I’m not promising anything.”
“I know. Whatever you decide is fine.” That had been a close thing. She was going to have to be more careful. Lily put her right arm around Sean and let her left hand trickle down his chest and grasp the front of his jeans. Better send him away happy.
LILY HEARD the front door close behind Sean and reached for the phone.
“Terry?”
“How’d it go?”
“I almost fucked up, big time. Went way too far, told him you two could give him what I couldn’t.”
“Shit, Lils. Did he go ballistic?”
“He wasn’t happy.”
“What did you do?”
“Talked him round. Told him how important helping you was to me but that of course he couldn’t be expected to feel the same. He said he’ll think about it, but who knows what he’ll decide? If I had to bet, I’d go for yes, but it’s close.”
“God, I wish I still prayed. When we first talked about this, I had major doubts, did you know? But now that you tell me it might not happen, it’s becoming the thing I want most in the world. Isn’t that weird?”
“No. It’s human nature. How’s Paul?”
“Holed up in his room. Not even a grunt when I tried to talk to him. It’s getting worse. How the hell am I going to wait till Wednesday?”
“As patiently as you can.”
“Patient? Me?”
“Yes, you. I’d better call Jules, give her the news. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
SEAN WAS outside his church hall in Putney, watching as four of his workmen detached the ornate, cast-iron Edwardian guttering from the building and handed it down to be packed away, stored, and put back in place after the renovations
were complete. All around him was a wilderness of thistle and nettle, of waist-high grass and overgrown yew. It was a strange property, stuck as it was in the middle of streets and streets of turn-of-the-century town houses, but it was an impressive building in a very good area and he had been lucky to get to it before anyone else. He had already sold three of the five lofts it would make before he had even started retiling the roof or thinking about doing the plumbing.
It had been a long wait, but finally all the necessary planning permits had come through. This was the first day they’d been able to work. Normally, it was Sean’s favorite moment, breaking ground on a new project, imagining how the place would look once it was finished, but today he was finding it hard to concentrate on what was going on. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lily and what she had asked him to do for her friends. And whether or not he should agree.
God knew, he had sympathy with someone wanting a child. Maybe he should donate his sperm to Jules. He liked her; he’d found her a tad intimidating to start with, but it was hard to be afraid of someone who was so needy. Would his giving a helping or two of sperm hurt anyone? Maybe Mark and Ben might be upset to discover that they had a new brother or sister, but they were just as likely to be delighted. That’s if he ever saw them again. No one else he knew would care. And going ahead with it would make Jules very, very happy.
From Sean’s own point of view, though a new baby wouldn’t, couldn’t make up for the loss of Mark and Ben, the idea of having another child was tempting. He wasn’t worried about Jules’s insistence that she intended to raise the baby alone, as he couldn’t believe she meant it. She was only saying it because she thought that was the way to persuade a potential donor to give his sperm. That most men would refuse her if they thought they were expected to take responsibility and be real fathers. As far as he knew, it was something sperm banks guaranteed, complete anonymity. But he wasn’t most men. And once Jules realized that at least one potential donor would be more than keen to be involved, he was sure she’d want the father of her baby to be around.