Paper Moon

by Marion Husband

  Even without looking at him, Bobby could sense Vickers’s shock. Cathy began to cry and he jogged her up and down, hushing her and forcing a smile into his voice. She made him feel calmer, a grown-up, and he forced himself to look at Vickers. He seemed more afraid than he himself was. Vickers’s face was pale; he looked old and small as though age had shrunk him. Bobby found himself staring, trying to make sense of the fact that this was the same man who had instigated such a dramatic change in his life. Vickers fumbled in his pockets to bring out a cigarette case. Bobby noticed how badly his hands shook.

  Still crying, Cathy patted Bobby’s face to regain his attention. Hugh’s navy friends burst into loud, filthy laughter. One of them sat down at the ancient-looking upright piano and began to play The Lambeth Walk. He saw Hugh lead Nina on to the dance floor. They danced, making up silly steps and laughing. Hugh spun her around. Her silk dress shimmered and flared around her knees. Bobby thought of the day he first saw her and how much he had wanted to prove he wasn’t what Vickers had believed him to be.

  Irene came back and began to dance with the bride and groom. She signalled that he should join them, too. Watching them dance he thought of Jane, how, if she didn’t come to London he would go back to Thorp and fetch her. He wouldn’t give up; coming face to face with Vickers had made him realise he was stronger than he’d imagined.

  To Mick, Bobby said, ‘Would you excuse me?’ He carried Cathy on to the dance floor and danced with her and her mother.

  Jane sat on the low wall surrounding the churchyard. From the church hall she could hear music and laughter. A young, beautiful woman in a blue dress came out and kissed a tall, handsome man. The man lifted the woman off her feet, crushing her to him. They kissed long and deeply. Jane looked away. She knew this was Nina and Hugh.

  Adam had said, ‘You’re really going.’

  She had been folding clothes into a suitcase. Earlier she had told him about Bobby. He hadn’t lost his temper as she thought he might. Instead he’d said flatly, ‘I guessed. From the day you came home in his car I knew he’d take you from me.’

  Going to her drawers, Jane had lifted out knickers and slips and stockings and tossed them in the case, not caring any more how neatly she packed, wanting only to get away. Stepping towards her Adam said, ‘Please don’t leave.’

  ‘I’m pregnant, Adam.’

  She wasn’t certain if it was true or not, only that her period, usually so persistently on time, was a week late. Her breasts had begun to feel too tight for their skin. She had begun to accept the idea of Bobby’s child growing inside her with a kind of subdued excitement, mixed with terror. He might not love her enough; he might have already left for that distant country. He was so young and frail: it was this that terrified her most.

  Adam stepped towards her. ‘I’ll adopt it. I’ll be its father –’

  ‘No, Adam.’ More gently she said, ‘I couldn’t do that to him.’

  ‘What will I say to people?’

  ‘That I left you. No one will blame you, Adam. Let them blame me all they like.’

  He sank down on to her bed. ‘I feel ashamed.’

  ‘Don’t. It’s over, now.’ She sat down beside him. For the first time in years she took his hand. ‘I think he’s a good man.’

  Adam laughed bleakly. ‘The Harris men are. A bit pompous, maybe. They should laugh more, I think.’ He squeezed her hand before drawing his own away. ‘I’m not sorry I married you, Jane. These last few years, well, I’ve felt a little safer, I suppose. That’s terrible, I know, using you to hide behind.’

  Carefully she said, ‘Do you have anyone now?’

  ‘There’s a man I see. All very furtive …’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘Love. Are women obsessed with love? I think we should all be more careful over how many people we love.’

  Sitting on the churchyard wall Jane curled her fingers into the soft pads of lichen growing in the wall’s cracks. She remembered how Adam had called a taxi for her, how, on the doorstep of the house they’d shared for seven years he’d handed her an envelope. ‘Money, for the journey. If he lets you down, call me. Come back, if you need to, I’ll always be here for you.’ He’d smiled sadly, ‘Very much second best, I know.’

  The piano playing in the church hall stopped suddenly to roars of disappointment. Almost at once it started up again. A girl began to sing Paper Moon. She thought of Bobby, his sweet, slow kisses, and the way he cupped her face in his hand and smiled into her eyes. Desire for him was always with her, a constant nag, as though her body was afraid of becoming celibate again. She missed his tenderness.

  A man sat down beside her. He said, ‘Hello, Mrs Mason.’ He smiled. ‘We were introduced at your school, after the play. Francis Law.’

  ‘Of course, hello again.’

  He nodded towards the church hall. ‘Are you waiting for Bob, too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s a wedding. Old friends of his.’

  ‘I know.’ He’d left a note pinned to the door of the address he’d given her, telling her where he was. At the end of the note he’d written, I love you – Bob.

  She wondered if he left a note on the door every time he went out. She had smiled with relief when she read it. He loved her. Seeing it written down in his neat, bold hand helped to quell her doubts.

  Francis Law said, ‘I feel rather shy of going in there, almost like a gatecrasher – although I was invited. Perhaps if we go in together?’

  ‘I wasn’t invited.’

  ‘Would you like me to find Bobby and let him know you’re here?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Nervously she said, ‘They sound like they’re having a good time, anyway.’

  ‘I hope so.’ He took a cigarette case from his pocket. ‘Do you smoke?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Good. Horrible habit. Perhaps you could persuade Bobby to give up the dreadful things.’

  She felt herself blush and Law smiled at her. ‘He talks about you a lot. This last fortnight Bobby has been my London tour guide; we’ve done all the galleries and museums and I tried to teach him a little about art but I think his mind was elsewhere, with you.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ They were sitting side by side and she turned to meet his gaze for the first time. She found herself looking into the face of the boy in Adam’s photograph, aged and more gaunt but still recognisable, still beautiful.

  She went on gazing at him, hardly able to believe that this was the man she had once thought of as a rival. She had been naïve then. She wondered if she was naïve still to imagine that a man as lovely as Bobby would want to spend his life with her. Realising she was staring she looked away, all the doubts she had about being here creeping back, swift as startled snakes.

  Francis said, ‘I’m going inside. Won’t you come in with me?’

  She shook her head, too anxious now to face a hall full of strangers.

  ‘I’ll let Bob know you’re waiting.’

  Jane watched Bobby leave the hall and look around. There seemed to be a look of panic on his face, as though he believed she’d already run away. Perhaps Francis had told him how nervous she was, like a schoolgirl on her first date frightened of making a fool of herself. When he saw her he grinned. Jane stood up and he ran the few yards towards her and swept her into his arms. He spun her round, hugging her tightly.

  Putting her down he held her face between his hands. ‘Have you left him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’ll come away with me?’

  She laughed, excited by the joy in his eyes. ‘Yes!’

  He kissed her again, a long, deep kiss. She pressed her body against his, wanting to wrap herself around him, to become entwined so they’d never be separated. She remembered the possible life inside her. She wouldn’t tell him yet, not until she was sure.

  Breaking away from her he grinned. ‘They’re dancing in there. Will you dance with me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He too
k her hand and turned, only to hesitate. ‘You’ll marry me, won’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘let’s dance.’

  Nina watched Bobby dance with the woman he had introduced to her with such excitement. She wasn’t very pretty; she was slim and had good legs. The two of them laughed a lot together; for an hour they had been dancing and laughing with eyes only for each other. It was odd how much he seemed to adore this plain, older woman.

  Hugh slipped his arm around her waist. His eyes followed hers. After a moment he said, ‘Are you jealous?’

  ‘No!’ She looked at him, horrified that he had guessed.

  He laughed a little, his eyes on Bobby still. ‘Do you see the way he’s looking at Jane?’ He turned to her. ‘That’s the way I feel about you.’

  The hall had become too warm and Hugh had loosened his tie and undone his collar. Earlier he had taken off his jacket and the white shirt he wore showed off his broad chest and muscular arms. The dragon showed faintly through the thin cloth. He was so handsome, it thrilled her how handsome he was. She found herself grinning, wanting him. ‘Let’s go home.’

  He grinned back at her. ‘You really do love me, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I really do.’

  Later, in his hotel room, Francis found the letter he’d written to Patrick a fortnight earlier. He read it again before tearing it into pieces. Taking a piece of the hotel’s notepaper he wrote quickly I’m coming home with Bobby and the lovely girl he’s to marry. I’ve missed you. My love always, Francis.

  THE END

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