She had no idea how he felt about her emotionally; he was sweet, gentle, tender, affectionate, but she did not know if he still felt love for her. But physically she feared he felt nothing; his behaviour towards her was that of a loving brother. He never touched her, except perhaps to usher her through a door, never kissed her except once to say goodnight. He sat and watched her sometimes, feeding George, and it was with a most dispassionate, albeit pleased look on his face; as if she was someone he had never felt anything for, as if she was some remote, distant relative or friend. Georgina remembered the way they had been so physically obsessed with one another that they could scarcely bear to sit on opposite sides of the table, to be separated by a chair’s distance; now she might as well have been the chair itself, she told Charlotte fretfully, for all the notice Kendrick took of her.
Mary Rose on the other hand was very pressing about their marriage. She sat them down after lunch on the Sunday and told them there should be no doubt about their future.
‘Of course you should marry. You’re both free. The child needs two parents. Whatever Georgina has done – ’she made it sound as if she had gone rushing off with some dissolute stranger, Georgina thought, rather than bearing Kendrick’s child alone, with some degree of courage –‘whatever she has done, the child is not to blame. You had planned to marry once, as I understand it, I cannot imagine why I wasn’t told, but one learns to endure these slights from one’s children, you planned to marry once, so clearly the prospect is not entirely distasteful still. You’re both free. You must marry and give – George –’ she seemed to have trouble with the name –‘a stable background.’
‘But Mother,’ said Kendrick, ‘we’ve both changed. Neither of us is sure that we want that.’
Oh God, thought Georgina. Oh Kendrick. One of us hasn’t changed. One of us is sure. One of us is quite sure. She looked at him and smiled determinedly brightly.
‘Kendrick,’ said Mary Rose severely, ‘life is not easy. Nobody could know that more than I do. I have had a great many disappointments and hardships in my life. But one has to try and do the right thing.’
‘But Mother,’ said Kendrick, ‘it might not be the right thing.’
‘Oh of course it’s the right thing,’ said Mary Rose impatiently. ‘The two of you have a child, and the child needs a father and a mother. How many more times do I have to point that out to you? He is your joint responsibility and you have to face up to it. And I have to tell you that I think you should live here, Kendrick. Bring the child up here.’
Georgina stared at her. Even she had not considered that, not in her wildest dreams.
‘Mother, you’re being ridiculous,’ said Kendrick. ‘I don’t want to live here. My home, my work is in New York.’
‘Oh nonsense,’ said Mary Rose, ‘you’re an artist, you can work anywhere. You’ve always liked Hartest, liked England. You and Georgina could live here, bring the child up here. I have to tell you, Kendrick, I think you have a certain right to it.’
‘Mother, what on earth do you mean? A right to it?’
‘Kendrick, Georgina’s sister is to have a large share of Praegers. And now Max is working for the bank as well, and no doubt trying to inveigle himself into the share structure. I might say that would happen over my dead body, but that is neither here nor there. At any event, I would see a certain justice in your having a share of Hartest.’
Alexander had come into the library, and was listening carefully to what she was saying. He came forward and put his hand on Georgina’s shoulder.
‘Mary Rose, I have to protest at that,’ he said, quite lightly. ‘Hartest of course goes to Max. He is my son and heir, he is the future Earl of Caterham. Kendrick has no claim on it whatsoever. Hartest is not a company, to be divided up.’
‘Of course it isn’t,’ said Kendrick hastily. He was still very wary of Alexander. ‘Mother, it’s madness what you’re saying. Madness.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t see it quite that way,’ said Mary Rose. ‘I see it as common sense, but we can talk about it some more at another time. But Alexander, would you not agree that Kendrick and Georgina should marry? For the sake of the child if nothing else?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Alexander. ‘I have always thought there is only one reason for marriage, and that is love.’
He smiled at them, his vague, rather sweet smile, and went out of the library again. Georgina got up quickly. ‘I have to go and feed George,’ she said, ‘excuse me.’
She sat in the nursery, looking down on George’s small dark head, thinking about Mary Rose’s words and how perfect it would be if Kendrick could be persuaded to do what she said.
‘So that’s it,’ said Charlotte when Georgina told her later. ‘She’s always been crazed with jealousy about me. She sees this as a chance to get even. How extraordinary. Well of course she just doesn’t understand, does she? She’s American. Of course Max must have Hartest. It’s his. You can’t start dividing it up into flats, or something.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ said Georgina, ‘I don’t see why we couldn’t all live here.’
‘Georgie, you’re mad,’ said Charlotte, ‘and I don’t think Max would like it, one little bit.’
‘I think you’re forgetting something,’ said Georgina and there was a strange expression in her tawny eyes. ‘Max is actually not Daddy’s heir. Well, he’s his heir, of course, but he’s not his son.’
‘Georgie, have you gone out of your head?’
‘No. I’m just talking facts,’ said Georgina coolly. ‘I’m sick of you all pushing me around and telling me I’m mad and I don’t know what I’m doing. As a matter of fact, I don’t see why Kendrick shouldn’t be entitled to some of Hartest, if we were married. And I’ll tell you something else, if Aunt Mary Rose knew about Max, she would really go to town, and I don’t know that I’d entirely blame her.’
She was very upset. She had ignored Charlotte’s shocked face, her suddenly wary eyes, refused to continue with the conversation and had gone running out of the house down the front steps and towards the stable yard. She had just taken the small winding path that led towards the lake when she heard her name being called; Kendrick was running after her.
‘Georgina. Georgina, are you all right?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘no, not really.’ She was crying; she brushed the tears angrily away.
‘What is it?’ said Kendrick. ‘Tell me.’
‘I’m surprised I need to tell you,’ said Georgina. ‘Everybody discussing us, telling us what to do, telling us we ought to get married, that we shouldn’t get married, that you ought to live here, that we’d be perfectly happy if we just put our minds to it –’
‘And do you think we would?’ said Kendrick. He was looking very serious.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, too upset, too angry to be anything but direct, ‘but it’s not up to them, it’s up to us. Isn’t it?’
She was crying harder now, her voice harsh, almost ugly with anger.
‘Yes it is,’ said Kendrick, ‘it’s entirely up to us.’ He put his hand out and touched her face. ‘You’ve been very brave,’ he said, ‘very brave. I think you’re wonderful.’
Georgina stared at him. ‘I thought you thought I was arrogant. Cruel. Wicked.’
He smiled. ‘I do. But I think you’re wonderful as well. Come on, let’s go to the lake.’
‘They’ll think you’re proposing to me,’ she said, smiling through her tears. ‘Well, they can think what they like. I just want to make you feel better. Come on.’
He took her hand, and they walked along together in silence for a while. Georgina felt soothed, calmed; her physical longing for him also strangely eased by the minimal contact.
‘Well, what do you think?’ he said, after a while.
She was startled. ‘About what?’
‘Oh, not our getting married. About my mother’s proposal we should live here and I should be a sort of joint heir to Hartest.’
She looked at
him carefully. ‘Well – I don’t know.’
‘I kind of fancy it,’ he said, and then winked at her. ‘It’s all right. Well I do, of course, you know how much I love it. It’s nonsense, and we both know it’s nonsense. But just think what she’d do,’ he added casually. ‘If she knew. About Max. And oh God, if Freddy knew.’
‘Yes,’ said Georgina. ‘Just think.’
It was a good thing, she decided, that he was such an extremely nice person. Otherwise he might, he just might, put the knowledge to good use.
She went up to bed early; she was terribly tired. Then at about one in the morning, she heard George crying; she dragged herself wearily out of bed.
He was fractious; he seemed to be getting another cold. She tried feeding him, but it didn’t seem to settle him; he wasn’t really very hungry. He was very wet; she changed him, put him in a clean nightdress, and then found the sheet of his cot was wet as well. The airing cupboard was empty; damn. Then she remembered there was a whole row of sheets airing down in the scullery; she put one of George’s shawls round her shoulders, picked up the baby, and went downstairs.
She was back on the first-floor landing, thinking how heavy George was getting, that it was no joke carrying him up and down three flights of stairs, when she heard a door open; it was Kendrick’s. He looked worried.
‘Everything OK?’ he said. ‘Is George OK?’ He had become very protective of the baby.
‘George is fine,’ said Georgina. ‘But he was wet and I had to go right down to the scullery and get a sheet. I’m just going to put him back to bed.’
‘I’ll come with you. If I may.’
‘Of course you may,’ said Georgina. ‘You can carry him, he’s really heavy.’
They went back upstairs and she made up the cot and put George back in it; he smiled sweetly up at them, and fell asleep again almost at once. They hung over the cot, one each side, smiling indulgently down at him.
‘He’s a very nice baby,’ said Kendrick. ‘You did well there, Georgina.’
‘We did well,’ said Georgina, smiling at him, and then became aware that the shawl had fallen off, that her nightdress was open, that her breasts were very much on display and that Kendrick was staring at them, as if he had never seen them before. She did not move, and neither did he; then very slowly and gently he reached out and touched one of them, caressing it, moving his fingers until they surrounded the nipple, massaging it very very gently.
‘Be careful,’ she said and in spite of herself, her emotion, her intense joy, she laughed, ‘you’ll get a great spray of milk over you if you’re not careful.’
‘I like that,’ he said, ‘I like it so much, that you’re feeding him, feeding the baby. I love watching you do it. It makes me feel – oh, I don’t know – peaceful.’
He moved forward, and took her hand, and bent and kissed her very gently on the lips.
‘What a strange, silly relationship this is,’ he said quietly, drawing back. ‘Here we are, once lovers, now parents of a very nice baby, and we never touch one another.’
Georgina didn’t speak; she didn’t dare. She stood there, staring up at him. ‘They’ve certainly changed, your breasts,’ he said, ‘they were so small, so tiny. You used to complain about them, do you remember?’
‘Of course I do. But they’ve worked well, you see, they do their job.’
‘Indeed they do,’ he said, and lifted his hand and outlined one of them again, his hand holding it, his thumb smoothing it; Georgina could stand it no longer. She moaned gently.
Kendrick looked at her, alarmed, took his hand away. ‘Did I hurt you? Are they sore?’
She shook her head, still afraid to speak, and took his hand and lifted it to her mouth and kissed it and then put it back on her breast. She felt consumed by him; she could feel her entire body given up to desiring him. Kendrick looked at her, startled, wondering, then bent his head and kissed her again; harder this time, more questioningly, his tongue in her mouth, and his hand, still moving, stroking, fondling her breast and then, slowly, wonderfully, moving very tenderly and gently, down her body towards her stomach.
‘To think,’ he said, very quietly, ‘you housed our baby there.’ And suddenly he went down on his knees in front of her, and started to kiss her stomach; his hands were on her buttocks, holding them, working at them. Georgina felt literally faint with longing, with great strong thrusts of hunger for him; she looked down and put her hands on his head, willing herself, struggling to keep still. Kendrick’s tongue was working at her now, she could feel it, in her pubic hair, seeking out her clitoris; she stood there, trying to be silent, throbbing, pushing deep within herself. She threw her head back, biting her lip, her hands wild in his hair; she felt a climax growing, quickly, sharply, easily, so easily. His tongue was working harder now, he was breathing hard, his hands pushing her against him; she could feel his fingers in her anus, the whole of her body was fused and confused, entirely focused on the growing, growing, wild, strange sensation he was creating in her. She felt herself beginning to tremble; her legs felt weak, her body hot, hot and frantic. Kendrick pulled away from her, smiled up at her, his hands moving up her again, reaching for her breasts, holding them, smoothing them, and then quickly returned to her, with his tongue, teasing, thrusting, pushing, and she cried out, cried out with a pleasure so fierce, so drawn out, so central to the whole of her being, that it was like pain.
She sank to the floor, then; he was kneeling and, clumsy with greed and desire still, she slithered onto him, fast, urgently, savouring the joy, the great leaping pleasure remembered of his penis in her, sat there astride him, moving slowly, gently, still alight with pleasure from her climax, and he moved with her, pushing, thrusting, up, and she began to climb again and felt him rising too, heard his breathing become heavier, faster, felt his hands holding her, urging her to him, and then it happened, and he climaxed too, on and on, throbbing, breaking in her, and she caught it and came with him again, more gently, more tenderly this time, echoing his own, and then at last it was over, and they stayed there very quietly on the nursery floor, for a long time, while their son slept, just smiling at one another and unable to find anything at all to say.
She slept late and deeply; she had many strange dreams, heavy, almost sombre dreams, labyrinthine in their depth. In the last one, as she surfaced towards morning, she was fighting, fighting to get to the light, it was so dark, so dark and she had been alone in the darkness and Kendrick was out there, in the light; something was happening, there was a shouting in her ears getting louder as she came to the surface, and then she heard someone screaming, screaming her name, and she awoke and shot out of bed, and to the window; it was Nanny, and she was next door, leaning out of the window herself, and below her, she could see the pram, George’s pram, on its side, just below the terrace, and running into the house, with the baby in his arms, white-faced, shouting her name also, was Alexander.
The baby was fine: he had an egg on his head, where he had fallen out of the pram, but Dr Rogers had checked him over and sent him into Swindon to have him X-rayed, and there was nothing wrong, no concussion, nothing at all. In fact George had celebrated the day by cutting a tooth; as Georgina had fed him his apple sauce for tea, she had felt something hard under the spoon and there it had been, a tiny white jagged edge. It had made them all feel better, that tooth; restored the day to normality. When George had finally gone to sleep and Georgina and Kendrick were sitting, weak with reaction, in the library, Alexander had come in and shut the door, and offered them both a brandy, and she had finally managed to ask him to tell her again, in proper detail (for it had all been so confused before), what had actually happened, what he had seen.
He had been walking up from the stables, he said; one of the dogs was snuffling round on the terrace. ‘He found some interesting smell under the pram; maybe George had had a rusk or something, I don’t know. Anyway, he must have nudged it; and I saw it very slowly, at first, begin to move. The terrace is level, of course; b
ut towards that end it does slope a bit, and then of course there are the steps. It was a nightmare, all in such slow motion, as these things always are. I ran and ran, but I couldn’t get there in time; just saw it turn and start to tumble down the steps. It was a miracle, a miracle, it wasn’t worse.’
‘Oh God,’ said Georgina, ‘and I was asleep, how could I have slept so late –’ She looked at Kendrick, confused, reminded forcibly of the night, of how she could indeed have slept so late and so deeply – ‘I suppose Nanny must have put him out there. That’s when babies sleep, of course, in their prams, after the ten o’clock feed. Oh God.’
‘Yes,’ said Alexander, ‘yes, I’m afraid it was Nanny.’
‘Daddy, what do you mean, you’re afraid?’
Wicked Pleasures Page 84