Wives & Mothers

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  Paul watched as his mother sailed out of the room and disappeared down the stairs. Why did he let her rule his life? He’d asked himself the question so many times but there never seemed to be a satisfactory answer. Because it was easy just to go along with what she said? Because making decisions wasn’t his strong suit? Because to stand up to her hardly seemed worth the trouble? Maybe the latter was closer to the truth.

  He stared critically at his reflection in the mirror. He supposed he wasn’t bad-looking. Tall and slim, perhaps a little serious? Did women find him attractive? It was a question he’d never asked himself. He certainly had no evidence that they did. He wasn’t all that keen on women to tell the truth. Although most of his life had been spent among them he couldn’t say he came anywhere near understanding them, or even wanting to. Marjorie Phipps, the woman his mother had accused him of allowing to slip through his fingers, had been a young widow of about his own age. His mother had thought her the perfect choice, but she had terrified him. Her rather horsy, intelligent looks had disguised a sexually avid nature whose appetites had intimidated Paul and sent him running for cover at the earliest opportunity. He counted himself lucky that Marjorie had quickly become bored with his ineptitude and turned her attentions elsewhere.

  Since the death of his brother and his father, Paul’s mother seemed to have taken over his life. She bought his clothes, organised his meals, even chose his friends for him. She had made it clear that she intended him to form a close relationship with Elaine with a view to marriage. That had been her intention when she had introduced him to Marjorie, and, as she was quick to point out, it was entirely for his own good. But he was the one expected to make a lifetime commitment. How did he feel about it? He stared at his reflection as though expecting it to tell him the answer.

  Elaine was a pleasant girl, pretty and intelligent. It was true that if he were to apply for the headship when it came up next time he would stand a better chance as a married man. But would a girl like Elaine ever consider marrying him? For one thing he was thirty and that was at least twelve years her senior. She was bright and vivacious, while he was — well, what was he? Dull, he supposed. He had no real interests outside school. He couldn’t dance and he didn’t care much for sport or for the theatre or cinema. The only thing he really liked was motor racing and that wasn’t likely to arouse much interest in a young girl. Besides he hadn’t the vaguest idea of how to go about courting a young woman. His mother had assured him that it would come naturally when he met someone he could care for. He sincerely hoped it would. He had no wish to make a complete ass of himself again. One read and heard so much nowadays about the permissive society — the sexual revolution. What did girls expect of a man? If Marjorie was anything to go by, a great deal. Perhaps that was the advantage of taking out a girl as young as Elaine. At least she wouldn’t be experienced.

  Grace had chosen to wear the black embroidered shift she’d worn when Bryan Bostock took her to London. It hadn’t been out of the wardrobe since that fateful night and even as she put it on she wondered anxiously if there was a jinx on it. Elaine wore a geranium red dress with bell sleeves and a horseshoe neckline. Its vibrant colour helped to brighten her pale face.

  It was a week now since she had said goodbye to Patrick and if anything, the pain was worse. She hadn’t slept all week. There seemed to be no escape. She thought about him constantly. Tossing and turning through the nights, she re-lived over and over every second of their time together, asking herself where she could have gone wrong — if he had ever really loved her as she loved him. She tortured herself with thoughts of what he would do in France — saw him walking hand in hand with Ann-Marie along the boulevards, stopping to kiss her in some leafy, shadowy place by the Seine, making love to her in her apartment, their naked bodies bathed in milky moonlight. Every time she closed her eyes the vision of Ann-Marie haunted her: the secret smile in her dark, enigmatic eyes; the sexy, scarlet mouth; the long dark hair and willowy figure. Patrick had warned her last Christmas that their relationship was over, but she hadn’t accepted it. Perhaps even then he had been in love with Ann-Marie. In the mornings she rose exhausted, her eyes puffy and her head aching, to drag herself through another day; wondering how long the aching misery would last and if she would ever feel happy again.

  Going for dinner at Langmere Lodge was the last thing she wanted to do and she had put on the red dress that evening in a gesture of defiance. It was very short and she wore matching tights. Mary’s quickly suppressed flash of disapproval when she removed her coat gave her a little stab of triumph.

  From the moment they arrived Mary made it clear that Morgan was the guest of honour. She flattered and flirted with him outragously; telling him how handsome he looked in his dinner jacket and fussing round him like a mother hen, eager to anticipate his slightest whim. Paul poured drinks for them all, but before Elaine could take a sip of hers, Mary said: ‘Paul, why don’t you show Elaine the garden? I’m sure she’d like to see the daffodils. And it’s such a warm evening. You won’t even need a coat.’ Taking Elaine’s arm she ushered her determinedly towards the French windows and opened them.

  ‘Ah, just take a breath of that air,’ she said, breathing in noisily. ‘You can smell the spring, can’t you? Don’t you think that spring is quite the most romantic time of year?’ She turned to look for Paul, a glint of impatience in her steely eyes. ‘ Do come along, dear,’ she said briskly, ‘Elaine is waiting.’

  They strolled along the path in silence for a while, both embarrassed by Mary’s heavy-handed attempt to throw them together. At last Elaine said: ‘It’s a very big garden, isn’t it? Do you do all the work?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. Mother does some of it and there’s a man who comes in twice a week for the heavy digging and so on.’

  ‘It’s very beautiful.’ In the fading light the pale yellow drifts of daffodils looked almost luminous. A huge old cherry tree, its boughs heavy with double white blossoms, stood at the end of the lawn, filling the air with its sweet fragrance.’

  ‘I wish we had a garden. It must be nice to sit out on summer evenings.’

  ‘Yes — yes, it is,’ said Paul, who never sat out on summer evenings or at any other time. She was very attractive. That red suited her and her hair was beautiful, thick and curly. He wondered briefly how it would feel to run one’s hands through it. She turned and caught his eye and he felt the warm colour mount his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

  ‘How is the driving?’

  She shrugged. ‘I haven’t had a chance to do much yet.’

  ‘That’s a pity. Er — Elaine, I wondered — there’s a concert at school a week on Wednesday. Would you like to go?’

  ‘What kind of concert?’

  ‘Oh — er, just a concert. The boys put it on every year. St Jasper’s goes in for music in quite a big way. Some of the boys go on to the Guildhall — take it up professionally when they leave.’

  ‘Really? That sounds interesting.’

  He heaved a sigh of relief. At least the idea didn’t bore her. He was acutely aware of the fact that his mother had sent him out here to arrange a date with Elaine. She would be furious if he didn’t accomplish it.

  ‘I love music,’ she said. ‘Are you musical?’

  ‘No, not really. Classics is my subject.’

  ‘Did you know that my father was a musician?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ He peered at her. ‘Is he — I mean, did he...?’

  ‘Die? No. He and my mother are separated.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Paul wondered what his mother would make of that.

  ‘It all happened a long time ago. When I was eleven.’

  ‘You must miss him.’

  ‘Not really. I hardly remember him.’ Elaine made a sudden defiant decision. Her father and Patrick — they weren’t worth her tears. She’d forget them. They’d both let her down. Maybe it was as her mother said; maybe the men you loved always did that. Maybe it was safer to stick to friendship, such
as she and Tom had — such as Morgan had offered. Patrick had left for France four days ago, without contacting her — even to say a final goodbye. He was probably with Ann-Marie at this moment. So why shouldn’t she accept an invitation too? Paul had been kind to her over the driving test and he was quite nice. A light breeze stirred the air and she shivered. Paul noticed at once.

  ‘You’re cold. Shall we go in?’

  She smiled at him. ‘Thank you for showing me the garden. It’s lovely, but I would like to go in now.’

  Reaching out, he tentatively took her arm. The feel of her soft, warm flesh through the thin material made him swallow hard. She didn’t pull away though. ‘You’ll come then — to the concert?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes. I’d like to.’

  ‘Good. I’ll pick you up at seven then.’ He had a sudden flash of inspiration. ‘And I’ll tell you what — you can drive us there.’

  He was rewarded with her most radiant smile. ‘Oh, Paul. Can I really?’

  *

  ‘Paul Kingston? The bloke who lent you his car for the driving test? Well, things have been buzzing since I’ve been away. Right on top of going up to London for a dirty weekend with Patrick too.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘So what was it like?’

  ‘It was a distaster, if you want to know. First we had a row, then Mum found out and there was hell to pay when I got home.’

  ‘Wow!’ Alison’s eyes were round. ‘What did you have the row about — you and Patrick, I mean?’

  Elaine shrugged noncommitally. ‘Oh, things.’

  They were having lunch in the college canteen. It was the first day of term and they hadn’t seen each other for the past three weeks.

  ‘He’ll be away for two years,’ Elaine said, staring at her hands. ‘He isn’t even coming home for the holidays. Says he has to work to pay his way.’

  ‘So you’ve really split up then?’

  Elaine looked up. ‘You could say that. Anyway, there’s another girl.’

  ‘But if he’s going away...’

  ‘A French girl.’

  Alison pulled a face. ‘Ah, I see. The dirty rat! In that case I don’t blame you for going out with Paul Kingston.’ She peered at her friend. ‘Are you cheesed off about it?’

  Elaine’s face was closed. She shrugged. ‘Not particularly. Not now I’m going out with Paul.’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right then.’ Alison looked doubtful. ‘Isn’t he a bit old for you though?’

  ‘No. Anyway, I like mature men. The young ones all seems so — so juvenile.’

  Alison leaned forward, her face eager. ‘So he took you to this concert? Come on then, what’s he like?’

  ‘He’s all right. Anyway, you know what he’s like.’

  ‘Come off it, you know what I mean. Did he kiss you?’

  ‘Do you have to know all the details of my dates, Alison?’

  ‘I tell you all the details of mine.’

  ‘But I don’t ask for them. That’s the difference,’ Elaine pointed out.

  ‘All right — be stuffy about it. See if I care.’ She looked piqued. ‘You haven’t even asked me about my holiday. Sometimes, Elaine Wendover, I wonder if you’re only interested in yourself.’

  Elaine sighed. ‘Sorry, Ali. I do want to hear about it — really. Go on, did you have a good time?’

  Alison’s face brightened instantly. ‘Better than good. We met this American family — Mum, Dad and two sweet little kids. And guess what? They’ve invited me to go over and spend a year with them in the States.

  ‘A year? What for?’

  ‘They’re starting up in business and they need someone to look after the kids while they get it going. They don’t start school for another year, you see. And it seems they’re mad about English nannies over there.’

  Elaine’s heart sank. Was she about to lose her best friend too? ‘Are you going?’

  ‘What do you think? Mum and Dad weren’t keen at first, but the Railtons managed to twist their arms. I’m off in August. This’ll be my last term. And that’s not all. They live in California and they have this gorgeous house with a swimming pool and everything. I’ve seen the photographs. I’ll have the use of a car and my own self-contained flat.’

  ‘It sounds wonderful. I’ll miss you.’ Elaine tried hard to keep the stiff smile glued to her face.

  ‘Maybe you could come over for a holiday,’ Alison said excitedly. ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Hey, you could even see your Dad while you’re there.’

  ‘Yes, who knows?’ Elaine pushed her plate away from her and stood up. ‘Look, I want to go to the shops before the afternoon lecture,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  Alison looked taken aback. ‘Oh, okay. See you then.’

  Elaine collected her coat and walked out into the spring sunshine. She and Alison seemed to be drifting further and further apart. There had been a time when she could have confided her feelings to her friend, but what she felt at the moment went much too deep to confide to anyone. She felt isolated and depressed.

  The school concert at St Jasper’s had been very good. The standard had been high and Elaine had enjoyed it. Just for a couple of hours she had actually managed not to think of Patrick. Paul had allowed her to drive the Rover both there and back afterwards. He had also asked her for another date — which she had accepted. It had been the fumbling goodnight kiss that had disturbed and upset her. Paul had been nervous and inept. His lips had felt slack and damp against hers and memories of Patrick had flooded back like pain after an anaesthetic, making her feel as though her heart were being torn apart. When she had drawn back from him he had apologised profusely.

  ‘I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t... You’re not offended, are you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She’d felt perversely angry with him. Why couldn’t he be more positive — take the initiative? That at least would have made up for his inexpert fumblings.

  ‘Are you going to say you don’t want to see me again?’ He peered at her and just for a moment she had the oddest feeling that he’d had been relieved if she’d said yes.

  ‘Do you really want to see me again, Paul?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, yes. I just thought...’ He broke off. ‘Elaine, I’d like us to see each other regularly — what’s the expression — go steady?’ He looked at her. ‘Is there any reason — I mean, are you seeing anyone else?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, good. Then...?’

  ‘Shall we just wait and see how things go?’

  ‘Yes, if you say so. I’ll pick you up on Friday then. We’ll go out for dinner. Is that all right?’ At least with food they would be on common ground, he told himself.

  Lying in bed later Elaine wished with all her heart that she could find him more attractive. He was kind and considerate; he wasn’t bad-looking either. It would help so much if she could fall even a little bit in love with someone else. But there was something about Paul — she didn’t know what. Except of course that he simply wasn’t Patrick. When her mother had tactfully enquired about her evening she’d confided these feelings to her. Grace had echoed her own thoughts.

  ‘You’re still upset about Patrick. It’s early days. For a long time no one else will make you feel as happy, that’s only natural. But give it time, darling. Just give it time.’

  So she’d decided to do just that. But as for confiding in Alison about Paul’s goodnight kiss... There was a time when they would have laughed over it together. But now talking or even thinking about it brought her a feeling of despondency. Would she ever be able to laugh again? she asked herself. Would she ever feel the heady excitement she had known with Patrick? Could she ever feel the same about anyone else? She doubted it.

  *

  In the weeks that followed the relationship between Elaine and Paul became easier and more relaxed. In spite of his misgivings they found some common ground, discovering that they both enjoyed reading the same detective thrillers. And Elaine fou
nd a new interest in motor racing, introduced to her by Paul. He was very knowledgeable about the Cambridge colleges too and took her to see his father’s old set. They walked around the ancient buildings in the spring sunshine and Paul told her about their history and traditions.

  She hardly saw her other friends. Alison and she drifted even further apart. There were no outings with friends and no parties. And she never saw the Carnes at all, until one Saturday morning she ran into Tom. He was coming out of his father’s shop and they almost collided as she hurried past on her way to town.

  ‘Hi there.’ Tom caught her by the shoulders. ‘Long time no see.’

  She coloured. ‘Hello, Tom. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. You?’

  ‘I’m fine too.’

  ‘I hear you’re dating some new bloke?’ When she didn’t reply he shook her gently. ‘Hey, don’t look like that. I’m glad. You don’t want to waste time agonising over my brother, you know.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘We had a postcard from him last week. Seems he’s having a whale of a time,’ Tom went on. He peered at her. ‘Look, love, I’m sorry about what happened that weekend.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Morgan told me about your mother finding out. Did you have any trouble?’

  ‘No. Look, Tom, I’ve got to go. I have an appointment.’

  ‘No hard feelings?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s all over and done with.’

  ‘That’s good then. Look, there’s a party at our house tonight. Why don’t you come? Bring your new bloke.’

  Elaine had a sudden vision of Paul at the Carnes’ house and would have laughed if she hadn’t been almost overcome with nostalgia. ‘I’m sorry, Tom. I can’t,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘Pity. We’ve all missed you. We must meet some time — have a drink.’

  ‘Yes.’ She watched with a heavy heart as he walked away down the road, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, whistling a carefree tune. With all her heart she wished she could call him back. She badly needed to talk to someone. But who? Alison wouldn’t understand; Elaine felt suddenly much older than Alison. It was as though she had left her behind in the carefree world of youth. Talking to her mother about what was on her mind was out of the question. Morgan... he had said she could trust him, but she still wasn’t sure. Tom would have been the perfect choice. She felt sure he’d have known what she should do — if only he wasn’t Patrick’s brother. She walked on, peering unseeingly into shop windows as she went. No, there was no one. She had never felt so alone in her life. Maybe it would all go away. Maybe she was worrying over nothing. She passed a travel agent’s and thought about Patrick in France, having a whale of a time — with Ann-Marie, no doubt. She hated them both with all the bitterness the past weeks had wrought in her. It was so unfair. So desperately unfair.