The Four of Us

by Margaret Pemberton

  She stared at him.

  ‘Are they a pop group?’ he asked helpfully.

  ‘They’re The Monkees,’ she said at last, in a strangled voice. ‘Don’t you know anything, Daddy?’

  It was the first time she’d called him ‘Daddy’in years and was a sign of just how truly shocked she was by his ignorance.

  ‘Surely you’ve seen their TV series?’ she said, regaining her breath. ‘And don’t you remember seeing them on the TV when they first arrived in England? There were thousands of screaming fans at Heathrow to meet them.’

  A young man stepping up to their table interrupted them. ‘I know this is a very uncool thing for me to do when you’re dining,’ he said, handing his menu to her, ‘but would you sign it for me?’

  It was an uncool thing to do, but Kiki didn’t mind. Flashing him a brilliant smile she signed the menu with a flourish.

  When they were on their own again Simon said, bewildered, ‘Does this sort of thing ever let up?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m a pop star.’ She remembered her confrontation with Aled. ‘I’m a rock star,’ she amended, deciding it was high time she began making the distinction.

  ‘And you’re happy?’

  Her eyes widened fractionally. It was a question she could never remember him having asked before. ‘Yes.’ Being forced to think about it made her realize that she wasn’t one hundred per cent happy – and wouldn’t be until she’d ditched Aled and was again being managed by Francis. That, though, was now only a matter of time. ‘Are you?’ she asked, to take the heat off herself.

  ‘Yes.’ He leaned across the table towards her, his hands clasped in front of him. ‘I’m very happy, Kiki. Happier than I’ve ever been before in my life.’

  ‘Great,’ she said, embarrassed by his unexpected intensity. ‘Shall we order?’

  ‘Not until I tell you why I’m so happy.’

  He looked nervous as well as intense and suddenly she knew what was coming. He’d found himself a girlfriend. Was perhaps even thinking of getting married again.

  ‘Do we have to have this conversation here?’ she said, her stomach coiling in knots. ‘Won’t it wait?’

  He shook his head, his grey eyes holding hers steadily. ‘No, Kiki. It won’t wait. It’s waited too long.’

  ‘You’ve got yourself a girlfriend,’ she said, wondering why the idea was so repugnant to her. ‘And you want to introduce me to her.’

  ‘I’ve got myself a fiancée,’ he said, a pulse throbbing at the corner of his jaw. ‘And I don’t have to introduce you to her. You already know her.’

  She stared at him blankly, wondering if he was speaking of one of her mother’s friends, or one of his patients. Dozens of them were divorced or widowed ladies of a certain age, but no one likely came to mind.

  ‘As I don’t know anyone over the age of twenty-five,’ she said, ‘it isn’t likely that I do.’

  His hands, on the stiffly starched tablecloth, were clasped so tightly that the knuckles shone white.

  ‘She isn’t over the age of twenty-five.’

  She stared at him. ‘I don’t think I heard you correctly,’ she said at last, in a voice that seemed to come from a great distance.

  ‘She isn’t over the age of twenty-five.’ He shot her a sheepish grin, took a deep breath and said, ‘It’s Primmie.’

  She continued to stare at him, this time blankly, truly not understanding. ‘Primmie? The woman you’re engaged to works with Primmie?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, Kiki,’ he said gently. ‘It’s Primmie I’m in love with. It’s Primmie I’m going to marry.’

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. Struggling to breathe, beginning to hyperventilate, she clumsily pushed her chair away from the table. ‘Oh God!’ she gasped, struggling to her feet. ‘Oh Christ!’

  His grin vanished to be replaced by agonized concern. ‘Kiki, please don’t be so distressed!’ He rose abruptly, painfully aware that every eye in the room was now on them. ‘I know it must be a shock to you, but it isn’t anything sudden. It isn’t something Primmie and I are rushing into.’

  ‘How long?’ She was shaking as if she had a fever, her brilliantly bold make-up no longer dazzlingly eye catching, but bizarrely garish on a face drained of blood. ‘How long have you and she … have you and she …’

  She couldn’t finish the sentence. It conjured up too many ghastly images. Primmie and Simon in love and in bed together. Primmie and her father in bed together. When had it started? After the four of them had moved into Artemis’s flat? Or had it been before? Had it been when they’d still been in the sixth form and Primmie had been at Petts Wood from Monday to Friday? Had it been going on before her mother had left home?

  ‘You can’t do it! I won’t let you do it!’ She felt as if she were plunging into a bottomless pit. ‘I will never, ever, speak to you or see you again, not as long as I live, if you marry … marry …’ Appallingly she found she couldn’t say Primmie’s name. ‘It’s indecent!’ She was crying now, oblivious to the embarrassed waiters hovering nearby. ‘It’s obscene. And the press will think it’s obscene, too. There’ll be “Rock star’s GP father marries her best friend” headlines. And if they get to know that Primmie lived with us weekdays from the age of eleven …’

  The horror in her eyes was now equally matched by the horror in his and suddenly she knew that the pit wasn’t bottomless; that there was hope.

  She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Can’t you see what the press will make of it?’ she said urgently. ‘There’ll be ugly rumours. The General Medical Council may get involved. You could be struck off.’

  For a second he merely stared at her like a man poleaxed and then, ashen-faced, he began propelling her out of the restaurant, pushing her past the waiters, desperate to be out of earshot of their fellow diners.

  On the pavement she swung towards him with such force she nearly fell, her face made childishly clownish by runnels of tear-streaked mascara and jade eyeliner. ‘Don’t you see now how wrong it would be?’ she persisted passionately. ‘It would mean Primmie would be my stepmother! Promise me you won’t do it. Promise me.’

  ‘I have to have time to think, Kiki.’ A fit forty-three-year-old when he’d entered Mr Chow’s, he now looked sixty. ‘Primmie has brought me so much happiness …’

  ‘But you’re old enough to be her father!’ She saw him flinch and didn’t care. ‘You’re not being fair to her. You’re not being fair to me.’ Tears rolled mercilessly down her cheeks. ‘Mummy running off with that Reece woman was bad enough, but this … this will emotionally destroy me!’

  He’d never known her cry before, not even when she’d been a little girl, and he couldn’t bear it. As if she were a child again he put his arms round her, swamped by doubts and suspicions held at bay for months.

  ‘You may be right,’ he said at last, thinking of the press attention Kiki now attracted. Thinking of the way his neighbours and patients would react to the news that he was marrying a girl they regarded as being a close member of his family. Thinking of how if he broke off his relationship with her Primmie would have the opportunity of falling in love with someone of her own age. Thinking of how Kiki would be spared hurt that was, quite obviously, intolerable.

  He closed his eyes, not wanting to think of the lonely years ahead or of the expression on Primmie’s face as he broke the news to her.

  ‘You won’t marry her, will you, Daddy? Promise me. Promise me!’

  It was her use of the childhood diminutive that finally finished him.

  ‘No,’ he said defeated as a bus rattled past them. ‘No, Kiki. I won’t marry Primmie.’

  ‘Promise?’ she said again, her voice so tense it was easy to believe that her life depended on his answer.

  ‘I promise,’ he said heavily, wondering how, in the name of all that was holy, he was ever going to be happy again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  May 1972

  Geraldine curled her naked feet b
eneath her as she settled herself comfortably on the sofa in the Kensington flat. She was wearing an ankle-length kaftan embroidered in red silk roses and, low across her forehead, a broad bandeau of intricately patterned jet and turquoise beads. Her sleek black hair was waterfall straight and waist-length, her skin golden.

  ‘Nepal and Kathmandu were heaven, Primmie, but it’s good to be home,’ she said, swirling ice cubes round in a glass of gin and tonic. ‘Francis has taken up the sitar and I’ve learned a few words of Hindi. Neither ability is going to be of much use to us, but it’s been fun. Francis was suspected of being a CIA agent in Afghanistan and nearly converted to Buddhism in Tibet.’

  Instead of collapsing into giggles, Primmie smiled. Coming from Primmie it was a rather lacklustre response.

  Geraldine put her glass down and pushed herself a little further upright against the cushions. ‘Is anything wrong, Primmie?’ she asked, ‘or have I just been away too long? When I phoned Kiki from the airport she only wanted to speak to Francis, and when I phoned Artemis she sounded as if she’d been crying, though when I asked she said she had a cold and that you’d fill me in on what’s been happening. By which I assume she means between her and Rupert. What gives?’

  Primmie, seated on the floor in front of the fireplace, its grate empty save for a jug crammed with white carnations, hugged her knees. ‘I’ve barely seen Kiki since she got back from Australia on Monday. Where was she when you phoned her?’

  ‘Aled Carter’s office.’

  ‘Umm. She isn’t too happy at the moment with the way he’s managing her career. I expect that’s why she’s so keen to speak to Francis. She’ll want his advice. As for Artemis …’ She paused. She appreciated that Artemis found it a difficult subject to talk about, but, even so, she wished Artemis had felt able to tell Geraldine herself. ‘She and Rupert aren’t able to have a family,’ she said at last. ‘He had mumps some years ago and has been sterile ever since.’

  Geraldine’s jaw dropped. ‘And he didn’t tell her? Before they were married, I mean.’

  ‘No. She only found out a couple of weeks ago.’

  Geraldine’s eyes held hers, horrified. ‘Dear God,’ she said at last. ‘No wonder Artemis sounded as if she had been crying.’ She regarded Primmie sombrely. ‘Is that why you’re in such an odd mood, Prim? Because you’re distressed on Artemis’s behalf?’

  Primmie hugged her knees a little tighter. ‘I am distressed on Artemis’s behalf. Who wouldn’t be? But I’m also on edge because I thought I was going to be making the most wonderful announcement this week – and now it’s going to have to be put off because Simon is ill and has gone away to recuperate and so hasn’t told Kiki – and Kiki needs to be told first …’

  ‘Whoa, girl.’ Geraldine shifted position, sitting bolt upright and cross-legged. ‘Why has Kiki to be told first? And where does Simon come in? And why are you looking as if you’re about to burst if you don’t get it all off your chest?’

  ‘Because I am about to burst if I don’t get it all off my chest. I’m so happy … I’ve been happy for so long, and yet I’ve never been able to tell anyone and now, when I thought I would be telling everyone, I’m on hold again because Simon’s gone down with a viral infection and has gone away for a few days to get over it.’

  Geraldine stared at her. ‘Are you telling me that your being happy has something to do with Simon?’

  Primmie bit her lip, her eyes glowing.

  Geraldine sucked in a deep, unsteady breath. ‘Dear heaven, Prim. You’ve been a bit of a dark horse, haven’t you? You and Simon?’

  Primmie nodded.

  ‘And Kiki doesn’t know?’

  ‘No one knows. That’s what’s been so hard, Geraldine. Simon never wanted anyone to know. Now, though, it’s different. We’re going to get married and Simon has been waiting for Kiki to get back from Australia so that he can finally put her in the picture.’

  ‘And now he’s ill and can’t do so?’

  Primmie’s radiant glow ebbed. ‘He rang me Monday evening to say that he wasn’t well and was going to go away for a few days. He sounded terrible, really ill, so ill he forgot to tell me where he was going. I rang him back when I realized, but he’d already put his phone on answer. As he didn’t ring me again, I can only imagine he went away that night.’

  ‘And Kiki doesn’t know?’

  Primmie looked despairing. ‘No. Not that I’ve been able to talk to her properly since Monday, because I haven’t. She’s been in meetings of one kind or another all week. On Wednesday night she was on Top of the Pops. On Thursday she was in rehearsals with new session musicians until way past midnight and then she flew off to Newcastle to record a pop programme for Tyne Tees TV. She only got back in town this morning – and then she went straight to see Aled Carter without coming here first.’

  ‘There are telephones,’ Geraldine said gently, as if Primmie might have forgotten about them.

  ‘Getting hold of Kiki on the phone is impossible. If she’s in a meeting or in a studio or in rehearsals the calls are never put through.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of Kiki. I was thinking of Simon.’

  ‘Simon?’

  ‘When Kiki was in Australia. Couldn’t Simon have phoned her then, and told her about you and him?’

  ‘Well, he could, but he didn’t want to do it that way. He wanted to tell her face to face. After all, it is pretty momentous news, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Geraldine reached for her gin and tonic. ‘Yes,’ she said again, keeping her voice studiedly neutral. ‘In fact, “pretty momentous” is something of an understatement.’

  ‘And you’re pleased for me?’

  Aware that she hadn’t yet congratulated Primmie, Geraldine flashed her a blinding smile. ‘Of course I’m pleased for you, Prim,’ she said sincerely. ‘Simon is a wonderful person and, if you love him, he’s a very lucky man. Do we have any champagne in?’

  Primmie nodded, her face radiant, her anxiety over Simon’s health put on hold as she was able to indulge in the sheer joy of being congratulated on her pending engagement.

  ‘Great. Let’s crack a bottle open and celebrate.’

  As Primmie sprang eagerly to her feet and headed for the kitchen, Geraldine’s smile faded. Primmie’s news was great, because despite the age difference she felt sure Primmie and Simon would make each other very happy. The problem was Kiki. What was Kiki’s reaction going to be when her father told her he was going to marry Primmie? Primmie didn’t seem to be anticipating it as a problem, but she, Geraldine, wasn’t at all sure that she was right in not doing so. Kiki was totally promiscuous where her own sex life was concerned, but that didn’t mean to say she wouldn’t be surprisingly old fashioned when it came to her father’s. Though it clearly hadn’t occurred to Primmie, she thought it possible Kiki would take huge exception to the idea of her being her stepmother – and if she did, how was Primmie going to handle it?

  ‘Goodness, aren’t you gloriously suntanned?’ Artemis said enviously as she and Geraldine drew apart after an enormous hug. ‘Even if I’d been to India, my skin would never go such a gorgeous honey colour. It would just go an ugly red and peel.’

  ‘That’s because you’re a natural blonde and have the type of skin that looks best English rose pale.’

  Even as she said the last word, she regretted it, for Artemis’s beautifully etched face was far too pale and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes.

  ‘Has Primmie told you?’ Artemis said, as if reading her thoughts.

  Geraldine nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Artemis. Terribly, terribly sorry.’

  ‘We’ll adopt, of course. We’ll have to, won’t we?’

  Her eyes were overly bright and it was obvious she was near to tears. As they were at the dressmakers, with the bridesmaids’dresses and Geraldine’s grandmother’s wedding dress spread all around them, ready to be fitted for the last time, it wasn‘t the best place to give in to crying.

  ‘Did Kiki say how she would be getting here, Pr
immie?’ Geraldine looked down at her watch, giving Artemis a moment or two to get herself under control.

  Primmie, lovingly admiring the cobweb-delicate, French lace wedding dress, turned reluctantly away from it. ‘She didn’t say. When I told her about it, on Monday, she said she’d be back from Newcastle mid-morning and I just assumed she’d be at the flat by the time Artemis called by and that we’d all three come here together.’

  Geraldine turned to her patiently waiting dressmaker. ‘We’ll just have to start without her, Antonella. Whom do you want to fit first? Me or my bridesmaids?’

  ‘The bridesmaids, I think,’ Antonella said, a large pincushion strapped to her left wrist. ‘Miss Surtees’s size has been constant right from her first visit and I think there will be very little adjustment to make to her dress, but Mrs Gower’s weight looks as if it might have gone up a little.’

  Artemis flushed, well aware she’d begun comfort eating. ‘It has,’ she said bleakly. ‘But not for any nice reason.’

  No one said anything. The dressmaker was silent because she was busy taking Artemis’s dress off its padded hanger and Primmie and Geraldine were silent because they knew to what Artemis was referring and there was no appropriate response they could make.

  When the long process of the final fitting of Primmie’s, and Artemis’s dresses was over, Geraldine said, ‘There’s no need for you both to stay whilst my dress is adjusted. It’s bound to take an absolute age. Are you able to stay at the flat tonight, Artemis? It would mean we could all go out for an Italian this evening.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ Artemis said sincerely, ‘especially if there was a chance of Francis being with us as well, but I can’t. Rupert and I have had an awful week. He just can’t seem to understand why I’m so upset. He says having babies isn’t the be-all and end-all of everything and that if he’d known I was only getting married in order to become pregnant he wouldn’t have married me.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘He doesn’t mean it, of course, and he knows I didn’t really only get married so that I could become pregnant, but I did think that when I was married I’d be able to have babies. Surely everyone who gets married thinks they can have babies?’