Good Husband Material

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘No, I’ve only just got up – and anyway, who are you to order me about?’ I protested weakly.

  ‘Someone has to. Do you want this baby or not?’

  I burst into tears. These days I’m the nearest thing to a fountain you’ll see in human form. (OK, semi-human.) ‘Oh yes – yes – I do want it!’ I wailed.

  ‘Well, then’ he said, exasperated. ‘You’ll have to take more care of yourself. Look, hush now – I didn’t mean to snap at you …’

  With his arm around me he guided me upstairs, bending to avoid the low beam as if he’d been there a hundred times before. His crisp blue shirt smelled delicious and so did he.

  ‘Is this your room? Go on to bed. I’ll feed the dog, and bring you a drink and something to eat.’

  ‘But you can’t! Why should—’

  ‘Shut up!’ he said with a thin smile, and vanished.

  A few weak tears ran down my face as I sank back against the pillows, but I suppose he’s right about my trying to do too much. Pregnancy does take it out of you.

  I must have dozed off, and woke with the sense of time having passed, definitely feeling better.

  A fragrant, mouth-watering smell wafted upstairs from the kitchen, along with a low, throaty voice singing softly.

  What will Mrs Peach make of this? It will be all round the village and into James’s ears in a flash that Fergal called first thing and stayed all morning … but at least he didn’t call in the evening and stay all night, which would have put the cat among the pigeons, even with me in my present gross condition!

  Fergal nudged the door open with his elbow and came in carrying a tray.

  ‘You look better,’ he said judiciously. ‘I looked in earlier, but I thought you needed sleep more than food, so I didn’t disturb you.’

  Bess appeared suddenly beside him, cast me a worried, harassed look, and dashed off again in a flurry of fur.

  I struggled upright and pushed the hair out of my eyes. ‘Are the puppies all right?’

  ‘Everything’s all right. I’ve fed the dog, bribed the parrot into silence with a biscuit, told your gardener to do what he likes, got some supplies from Mrs D.’s – and this is lunch.’

  He put the tray down on my knees. I’d forgotten he numbered cooking among his many and varied assets.

  ‘It smells wonderful!’

  ‘It’s just paella, with a bit of this and that … There wasn’t an awful lot in your kitchen, other than brown rice and lentils.’

  ‘I’m a bit low – I meant to stock up.’

  ‘I’ve stocked up. Now, eat this before it gets cold. What do you want to drink?’

  ‘Orange juice, please. I seem to have gone off coffee, even the coffee-substitute I’ve been getting from the health food shop. Mrs Deakin says I should drink Guinness.’

  ‘The Irish in me would have to agree with that. I don’t see that it would do you any harm, anyway.’

  ‘But I’m not supposed to drink alcohol.’

  ‘Eat your lunch before it gets cold. I’m going to make that dog go out into the garden for a few minutes.’

  The paella was delicious, with prawns and things in it – which I certainly hadn’t had in the house. I must ask him how much the shopping came to.

  I’d put down the tray and was half-nodding off again, when the sound of the front door closing jarred me awake.

  James’s voice called, ‘Tish! Tish!’

  I closed my eyes and opened them again resignedly. ‘Yes, James – I’m up here.’

  His head poked suspiciously round the door. ‘What are you doing in bed at this time of day?’

  ‘Resting. I was up all night with Bess – she had her puppies.’

  ‘Oh?’ His eyes darted about the room, and I became anxious to get rid of him before Fergal returned.

  ‘What do you want, James?’

  ‘Want? Oh – the commode.’

  ‘The commode?’

  ‘You never liked it. I could use it in the Shack.’

  ‘If it means that much to you, take it. But it’s a good piece of furniture and probably worth something now it’s restored.’

  ‘Yes, and I restored it, so it belongs to me.’

  ‘I see! So, since I restored the house, by the same reckoning that’s mine?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid! Anyway, I’ll take what I like, and there isn’t anything you can do about it, is there? You’re going to have to watch your step, Tish, because now I’ve had the time to think about it, I’m not convinced this baby really is mine after all. And if not, why should you walk off with the house and everything?’

  ‘I think you’ve said quite enough!’ Fergal said from behind him, in a voice so cold polar bears would have shivered.

  James certainly went Arctic White, and swivelled round, eyes bulging: ‘You! And her – going on about my bit of fun, when all the time the sneaky little bitch was—’

  Fergal’s fist made contact with James’s chin with a very satisfying crunch and he hit the floor with a crash that rocked the house.

  Fergal hauled him back upright by the collar, stunned and gibbering with rage. But although James is stocky and solid, he’s let himself run to seed (rye, mostly), and Fergal was looking lethal, so discretion took the better part of valour.

  Twisting out of Fergal’s grip, he backed away towards the door, fingering the mark on his chin.

  ‘You’ll be sorry about this!’ he threatened me.

  ‘Don’t be silly, James. It’s your own fault. You can’t seriously think I’ve been having an affair, and with Fergal, of all people! He’s hardly even been in the same country for months.’

  ‘But I would, of course, have had no objection otherwise,’ Fergal butted in helpfully.

  I ignored him. ‘He only called today to offer to give me some driving practice, which was kind of him, and stayed to look after things while I got some rest.’

  ‘Yes, very kind!’ sneered James, but I could see his brain cells had started to rub together again. ‘Yes, OK! Sorry! Only what else was I supposed to think?’

  ‘Almost anything else! I don’t have cheap little affairs like you. I suppose Wendy has been putting these sordid ideas into your head?’

  ‘Leave Wendy out of it!’ he blustered, and then added spitefully, ‘But if she saw you now, she’d realise how ludicrous the idea was.’

  Miserably made aware of how I must look, with no make-up on, my hair all over the place, and wearing my old outsize Snoopy T-shirt (not to mention a mid-section the size of a medium zeppelin), I wished Fergal would hit him again.

  ‘You should take better care of yourself,’ he added, and Fergal took a hasty step forward and seemed to be about to make my wish come true.

  James thought so too, for he turned and vanished at high speed down the steep stairs, banging his head and cursing as he went, and the door slammed after him.

  ‘Shut the bloody door!’ came Toby’s faint shout from the living room.

  ‘Delightful!’ Fergal remarked.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry, Fergal.’

  ‘What for? Marrying him? I should think you would be, Angel.’

  ‘No, that you’ve been cast as the villain of the piece.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m used to it.’

  ‘He’s always been jealous of you.’

  ‘Has he?’ I was pleased to see that he’d stopped looking quite so ferocious. ‘Perhaps he’s looking for a scapegoat. Think how much better he’d feel about his behaviour if he convinced himself you’d been having an affair, too. But he’s finding it difficult, because you aren’t really the type, are you, Tish? I suppose in London it was a combination of finding out your husband had been unfaithful and drink. You were just looking for comfort, and I was there.’

  ‘Yes, that was it,’ I agreed (though there was quite a bit of Frustrated Lust in there too, I’m ashamed to say). ‘I – I’m sorry.’

  ‘Always happy to oblige,’ he said politely.

  I think he’s right about the scapegoat bit,
though, if only James could convince himself it was true – or let Wendy convince him. I used to think he was a solid rock I could depend on, but now I see he’s just another weak vacillating quicksand of a man.

  ‘I’m beginning to wish this baby was anyone’s except James’s!’ I said bitterly.

  ‘Are you? It’s yours – that’s what matters.’ He wandered over to the window, back to me. It’s a very nice back, broad in the shoulders and tapering to narrow hips and long, long legs. ‘Tish …’

  ‘Mmm?’ I murmured, sinking back onto the pillows.

  He turned and gave me a curious smile. ‘Never mind. Look, I’ve got a temporary housekeeper from an agency – Mrs Bell. I’ll tell her to ring you next time she goes to the supermarket and you can give her a list of what you want.’

  ‘But why should the poor woman do my shopping too?’

  ‘Why not? I’m paying her enough. And I’m not having you carrying heavy bags about – it isn’t good for the baby.’

  ‘No,’ I agreed. I just couldn’t resent his trying to order me about any more; in fact, weak tears came to my eyes because someone cared about me enough to think of these things.

  He wandered over and flicked my cheek carelessly with one finger, smiling. ‘And don’t take what James said to heart, Angel – you look like a ripe peach, good enough to eat!’

  He can’t mean it, but it was kind of him to try to make me feel better.

  ‘I’ll have to go now. Do you think you’ll be all right?’

  ‘Of course! I’m fine, and I’ve got a book to finish.’

  ‘Ah yes. I enjoyed Love Goes West,’ he said smoothly, and I was so unnerved that I forgot to ask how much my shopping had come to, or even thank him properly.

  I hope James isn’t going to turn vindictive about the house and everything after this – but I’m still glad Fergal hit him.

  Fergal: December 1999

  ‘GONERIL – SO FAR, SO BAD.

  The unofficial pictorial history of the band …’

  Trendsetter magazine

  It’s stuff like this that tempts me to cancel my subscription to the cuttings agency – except I feel better knowing what’s being said about us, good or bad. (Mostly bad.)

  At the moment, all I really want is a quiet life at Nutthill, painting, writing songs, and watching out for Tish, because God knows, her stupid husband isn’t.

  At least she’s stopped looking at me as if I’m the Devil incarnate – though that might change if she sees some of the snaps in this little family album!

  Chapter 31: The Least Little Thing

  The puppies do look odd! What on earth was the father? They’re all blind and deaf, with big tummies and heads, and little legs. I hope they’re supposed to be like that.

  Bob was so desperate to see them, I let him have a quick peep. Bess didn’t mind – she likes him. He was so incoherent you’d think he was the father. I said he could have one if his mum agreed. I expect it would be as happy with Bob as anyone, as long as it got on with the Jack Russells.

  At least Bess has got it all over with.

  At five months, my tummy is already so tightly stretched that my navel is on the surface instead of sunk in, and the skin itches. I feel mildly uncomfortable all the time, too, and since it’s turned freezing now we’re into December and I can’t fasten any of my coats, I’ve had to buy a loose, warm jacket.

  I simply must have some intensive driving lessons before I’m too big to fit behind the wheel.

  Nerissa called in again. It’s hard to slam the door in her face when she acts as if she knows I’m her friend, but I think she came just to tell me that Fergal had gone to London.

  ‘I thought he might have told you when he had to give you a lift the other day. He’s such a softie at heart, just can’t bear to see you struggling with shopping in your condition.’ Her big brown eyes lifted to my face. ‘Poor you, not being able to drive when you’re pregnant – and alone! Well, I think he’s gone to buy me a ring, because he was so secretive. He didn’t mention it, I suppose?’

  I cringed at the thought of Fergal telling Nerissa he’d had to give his poor old pregnant ex-girlfriend a lift home …

  ‘An engagement ring?’ I tried not to sound surprised – how do I know the idea of marriage hasn’t grown on him? ‘No, he didn’t mention it – but we hardly spoke.’

  ‘Say, that’s a nice ring you’re wearing!’ she said suddenly, gazing at my sapphire heart. ‘Is it antique?’

  ‘This old thing?’ I said casually. ‘Yes.’ And with an effort of will I restrained myself from adding, ‘And Fergal gave it to me!’

  I wish Nerissa wouldn’t keep appearing like this – she makes me feel huge, pathetic and old. And a nuisance … When Fergal’s housekeeper did phone to ask if I wanted any shopping, sounding cross, I thanked her and said I’d made other arrangements. I’ll find a way to manage – other women do.

  Just after lunch today I was standing at the window idly eating a tangerine, when a big, dark car pulled up at my gate. It was hard to make out through the curtain of sleety rain, but the driver seemed to have got out in order to help his passenger alight.

  A small, dark and solid figure advanced up the path under a large striped umbrella and I hastily disposed of the tanger-ine and wiped my hands. Whoever it was, they were coming here.

  The visitor rang twice and knocked with the letter flap for good measure, before I got the door unlocked to discover, with amazement, a familiar, crumpled red face framed in a black sou’wester.

  ‘What on earth …? Granny! Where – is Mother here, too?’

  ‘Not flaming likely!’ She pushed past me like a small wet seal, and jammed her dripping umbrella in the corner. ‘I’ve given her the slip. Permanently. Shut the door – all the warm air’s going out.’

  Then she prodded me in the stomach, none too gently. ‘What’s all this?’

  ‘I’m pregnant, Granny.’

  ‘Nothing good ever came of it.’

  ‘I’ve noticed.’

  That seemed to be the end of the subject as far as Granny was concerned, for she moved off purposefully towards the kitchen.

  ‘Thought as much!’ she announced, flinging back the door with a crash that made me wince, and Bess in her corner whimper.

  ‘I’ll make you some tea, Granny. You’ll like that better than coffee, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t like coffee – it makes me Go.’ She examined the kitchen, poking in all the cupboards she could reach, and opening up the front of the Aga. ‘Good stove – you should use it.’

  ‘I don’t know how.’

  ‘Find out.’

  I made the tea in the bright red pot and put out the sugar bowl. Despite being diabetic, she’d insist on having some in her tea if I didn’t put it out, whereas if it was very much in evidence she probably wouldn’t.

  Meanwhile, she concluded her tour with a scathing inspection of Bess, cowering over her brood, and was now removing her mack and peculiar plastic overshoes – transparent with little dots of glittering gold embedded in them. The heels were the same archaic shape as the shoes inside them, which were Ladies’ Extra Broad Kid, size 3.

  ‘I love your overshoes, Granny.’

  ‘Bought six pairs in Thompson’s closing-down sale. No – leave that tea. It’ll be weak as cat’s pee yet.’

  ‘Does Mother know where you are? How did you get here?’

  ‘Does yer mother know yer out?’ she parodied, and cackled. ‘I came by car. Hired it. I’ve left a note for Valerie …’ she mused, stirring the contents of the teapot with a spoon. ‘I’ll have to sell the house with her as a sitting tenant, and I won’t get half as much for it.’

  ‘Sell the house?’ I had a sudden, horrible suspicion that Mother was right after all about Granny’s sanity. ‘But you can’t do that, Granny! Where would you live? Do you need the money urgently?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear.’ She poured herself a cup of black, treacly liquid. Her hand hovered over the sugar, then
passed on to the milk. She added gallons, but it didn’t make the brew noticeably paler.

  ‘I’ve had enough of your mother. She doesn’t want me, and I don’t want her – you should understand that! What I want and deserve is a bit of peace and pleasure in my old age, and that’s what I’m going to have. I’ve bought a cottage in Devon, and I’m off there now.’

  ‘But, Granny! You can’t be serious. How could you live alone? What about your injections and everything?’

  ‘Won’t be alone!’ she said triumphantly. ‘Rose Durwin – the district nurse – is coming with me.’

  ‘Mrs Durwin? To live with you?’

  ‘That’s right. She’s a widow too, and she wanted to retire early. We get on well – always have. Her daughter lives in Devon, that’s why we chose it. We’ve been planning this for weeks.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Suddenly I thought: why not?

  ‘It all sounds perfect, Granny! And I know you’ve always enjoyed Mrs Durwin’s company.’

  ‘Got a sense of humour, and likes cooking and gardening. We’ll each have our own sitting rooms, so we won’t get on top of each other.’

  ‘But it must have cost a lot of money.’

  ‘I’ve sold most of my jewellery – not that I was strapped for cash, mind, but it might as well be doing me some good as sitting in a safe deposit box. It’ll see me out in style.’

  She took a gulp of tea. ‘It was a mistake trying to live with Valerie. Blood may be thicker than water, but hers is pure sherry and that doesn’t count. I’m off.’

  She refilled her mug. ‘But I always liked you – finicky child, but turned out not too badly, considering.’

  ‘Thank you, Granny!’

  ‘Not that I hold with it, mind.’

  ‘Hold with what?’

  ‘Don’t hold with it – but maybe they didn’t, and anyway, what’s done is done. And I always liked you, as I said, so I just thought I’d pop in on my way to Devon and give you a little something.’

  She fished in an enormous black bag and handed me a crumpled handkerchief. A tangle of jewellery fell out.

  ‘I saved one or two bits I thought you’d like. Nothing very valuable, but not trumpery stuff, either.’