‘Should do.’ Hector sought to dodge the subject. ‘Are you in pain?’
‘Yes, quite a lot,’ Wendy said, wincing. ‘But they’re giving me painkillers and I’m not moving much, so I reckon it’s more uncomfortable than anything. Have you been OK? And Morgan?’
‘Both fine,’ Hector said. ‘Morgan rang me. He’s got some rhyme or another that he’s dying to recite to you. I’ll bring him in in a day or two when you’re a bit better.’
‘Good.’ Wendy yawned and closed her eyes, and after a few minutes when Hector reckoned she was definitely asleep, he tiptoed away. He drove home half-listening to the radio, but after a few moments leaned forward intently and gave it his full attention, driving even worse than usual in consequence.
Once home, he sat for a considerable time staring at the window but unfocused, thinking about the programme he had just heard. Could what they had said be true of him as well? And if so, how could he have got it so wrong for so long? Perhaps he was growing up at last? Or was it just a sign of incipient old age, when beauty ceased to be paramount in a man’s assessment of his ideal woman?
Hector had lately been reading a host of popular science books in an attempt to counteract the bias inculcated in him by his narrow arts education, and the idea of the evolution of human nature by sexual selection currently fascinated him. He saw now that he had been at its mercy all his life, unknowingly swept along by the biological imperative that female beauty signifies youth and health, which together make for optimum breeding of the next generation. It was a cruel fact of nature that kind, clever, ugly women were discriminated against most unfairly, in spite of their undeniable worth.
I’ve done with the breeding bit now, Hector thought, so shouldn’t I at last be liberated from the tyranny of my genes? Perhaps that’s what maturity is all about. Perhaps that’s why I’m dimly beginning to realise what I’ve been missing all this time. I’ve been so obtuse, so prejudiced, so intolerant. Why didn’t it strike me long ago? After all, she has all the qualities I most admire, and I’ve felt closer to her than to any other woman, for years and years… He got up and went to the telephone.
‘Jess!’
‘Hector? Is that you?’
‘Yes, look I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you at work. I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting you a bit lately. It’s not your fault; I just seem to need some space sometimes. But, can I come round and make up for it now?’
‘Well I suppose… yes, if you like. I’ve only just got home, and the place is rather a tip, but… yes.’
‘House-proudness is an overrated virtue,’ Hector said carelessly. ‘I’ve always thought so. See you in about half an hour then.’
He ran up the stairs two at a time to the bathroom and gargled energetically with pink mouthwash. He inspected his face in the mirror for flaws and then had a quick shave anyway. He sniffed his armpits, and discovering them to be passably sweet, bounded downstairs again to look for a suitable gift.
His car journey to Jess’s flat passed without any conscious effort on his part. The Jaguar drove itself. Hector was suffused with the excitement of the moment. His blood had woken from long torpor and positively roared through his veins. His hands, as they rested nonchalantly on the steering wheel, looked to him to be strong yet sensitive. He felt full of confidence. A long-abandoned tune from his youth rose unbidden into his head and provoked him to spontaneous expression.
‘You are the sunshine of my life… yeah!’ Hector sang, ‘Mmm mmm mm mmmmmm mm mmmmmmmmm…’ The forgotten words were not crucial. It was the feeling behind them that was so uplifting. He arrived at Jess’s door with all his senses heightened as though he’d been breathing pure oxygen.
‘Good grief,’ she said. ‘Champagne! What’s all this in aid of?’
‘I’ve been keeping it for years,’ Hector explained, ‘since before Morgan was born, in fact. And now I’ve found exactly the right use for it.’
‘You have?’
‘Well aren’t you going to invite me in then?’
Jess took the bottle and moved backwards, but Hector, instead of going past her, stepped jauntily over the threshold and flung both arms round her. Then he held her at arm’s length, in order to gauge her reaction. She looked more bemused than ecstatic. His confidence wavered a fraction.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Simple,’ Hector said. ‘You see I was listening to Radio 4 on my way back from the hospital, and this woman was saying how it’s quite possible for some men to be in love for years and years without actually realising it.’
‘Sounds pretty far-fetched to me.’
‘Not at all!’ Hector cried. ‘It makes perfect sense. It’s a revelation! You see, that’s what’s been happening to me!
‘It has?’ Now she merely looked confused.
‘Come on, Jess! I didn’t exactly expect you to swoon into my waiting arms, but I had hoped for a little more enthusiasm.’
‘Well you haven’t told me yet who you think you’re in love with.’
‘Why you of course, who else?’ Hector stared into her warm brown eyes and saw with tremendous relief that he wasn’t entirely rejected. There was room for hope.
When Hector kissed her, Jess felt mostly confusion and disbelief. He led her through to her sitting room holding her hand and they sat down, smiling rather awkwardly at one another.
‘I suddenly feel about sixteen years old,’ Hector said.
‘You don’t look it,’ Jess said drily. ‘Just as well!’
‘Here, pass me the champagne and I’ll open it,’ he said. Jess did so, and went to find two glasses. Hector tore off the foil and the metal basket and eased the cork out with both thumbs. It made a satisfactory pop.
‘Whoops,’ he said as the contents fizzed up and overflowed.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Jess said, catching some in one glass and presenting the other. ‘It’s a grotty carpet anyway.’ She handed the full glass to Hector.
‘Iechyd da cariad,’ he said. ‘Cheers, my darling. Here’s to us!’
Jess couldn’t help but be flattered by this new romantic Hector, but underneath she wondered what on earth was going on. Had he brought the champagne to aid a seduction? Was he hoping she would go to bed with him? As far as she was concerned, there were two significant reasons why she shouldn’t: Hector was a married man, and she wasn’t on the pill!
She sat on the edge of her seat hugging both arms around her chest, and regarding him seriously. She decided she liked the shape of his nostrils, the curve of his mouth, even the small white scar on his forehead… but did she really fancy him? Unrequited day-dreams about Hector were one thing, but the actuality was quite another. In her fantasies she had felt a lot of things… but apprehension hadn’t been one of them.
Hector was taking his time. He seemed to want to talk. Jess put her glass down and, shuffling off her shoes, put her feet up on the futon and leant back.
‘I’ve made so many mistakes,’ Hector began. ‘You know when famous people are asked about their lives on radio or TV, and they say that, given the chance, they’d do it all over again just the same? I always think that’s so bloody conceited! I never believe them. It means they’re either too stupid to learn from experience or they’re lying through their teeth. No one ever gets it all right, do they? Life’s one almighty compromise.’
‘With occasional short sharp spells of euphoria, if you’re lucky,’ Jess agreed.
Hector smiled lovingly at her. ‘I want to try to explain things,’ he said. ‘I want you to understand me. I’ve changed, you see. Until now I’ve always seen women as the means to an end; for pleasure, children, whatever, but now…’
‘Now, what?’
‘Well, companionship and friendship are just as important, aren’t they? There’d be no need to rush anything. As long as we were together, we could just be!
‘You and me, you mean?’
‘Yes, you and me.’
‘And no one else?’
‘Why d’you ask
that?’ He looked wounded. ‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘Well I was just wondering if it’s really positively me you want, rather than simply a change from Wendy, if you understand what I mean?’ Hector frowned. ‘You see,’ Jess said hastily, ‘I was at Caroline’s when you rang her, so I wondered…’
Hector smiled widely. ‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘No, I haven’t the remotest interest in the Moffat woman if that’s what you mean. I just wanted to see Hannah. I suppose I still have a sneaking feeling that she might be my daughter, and so I wanted to be sure. What’s she like? You’ve seen her. How would you describe her?’
Jess sat up abruptly and put both feet back on the floor. ‘She’s very pretty,’ she said, ‘and very clever at school, but maybe a bit of a show-off, a touch aggressive, even unhappy? It’s hard to say. I think she resents her mother leaving her to go to work every morning.’
‘Mmmmm,’ Hector said. ‘Hardly surprising, poor child. Anyway, enough of that. You haven’t drunk your champagne. Let me top you up, and then… who knows what we might do next, eh?’ He smiled at her, a wonderfully open, confiding, sexy smile, but Jess felt uncomfortably constrained. What were his real motives? Could it be that having become dissatisfied with Morgan and finding Hannah unavailable to him, he was still out to beget the perfect child…?
‘No, Hector,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think so.’
Chapter 16
‘Saw an old friend of yours in Court this morning,’ Barry called to Hector across the desks in the Newsroom.
‘I doubt that,’ Hector said, without looking up from his computer.
‘No, straight up. It’d be hard to forget a name like hers, and I’m sure you haven’t. Zillah Brakespear ring a bell, does it?’
Hector looked up sharply. ‘What about her?’
‘She was in Juvenile Court with her son. Blimey, if ever I’ve seen a cheeky young thug in the making, it’s him.’
‘What? Surely not Christian?’
‘Nah. He had some really pansy, flowery name. Didn’t suit him at all.’
‘Florian?’
‘That’s it. Little devil got let off with a talking-to, because in spite of being big for his age, he is only seven and it was a first offence. He wants to watch it though, next time he’ll be slung into care. I just hope my kids…’
‘But what did he do?’ interrupted Hector. He could feel his heart pounding with anxiety.
‘Oh, nothing evil, just a spot of TWOC-ing.’
‘What?’
‘Taking Without Owner’s Consent. He nicked a car, went for a spin, and was seen dumping it. Not a scratch on it – pretty clever actually – I’m amazed he could reach the pedals. If he hadn’t been so conspicuous he’d probably have got away with it, but all that red hair is a dead liability.’
‘Was his father in Court?’
‘No. They’ve split up. She said she had no idea where he was. They weren’t married anyway, which explains a lot.’
‘Hardly worth writing a report on, surely?’ Hector said, trying to appear casual.
‘What d’you mean? It’s my best story this month!’ Barry protested. ‘Can’t identify the brat of course, since he’s well under age. Great pity, that. Names make all the difference. Anyway, I just thought you’d be interested.’
‘Mmmmm,’ Hector said, trying to appear indifferent. He finished typing the story he was on as quickly as he could, and then dropped it into Nigel’s basket.
‘Any chance of the rest of the afternoon off?’ he enquired, ‘for personal reasons.’
‘Is Wendy all right?’ Nigel asked at once.
‘Well, yes and no. It’s only three days since her operation, and you know how it is… I just thought…’
‘You go,’ Nigel said generously. ‘We’ll manage. Never let it be said…’
‘Thanks Nige.’
Hector drove the Jaguar as fast as he could to Zillah’s cottage, justifying the white lie to himself as he went. He would of course have to go and see Wendy that evening. He also very much wanted to see Jess. He wasn’t going to give up on her, not now he’d seen that unmistakable look in her eyes. But this news about Florian had really shaken him, and he simply had to find out what was behind it. He hadn’t given the boy much thought in the intervening years. He’d written him off as being Clive’s son, but now if he was in trouble and Zillah was having to cope with it alone… Well, one visit couldn’t hurt. I’ll find out what’s going on, Hector thought, then collect Morgan and go straight to the hospital for half an hour or so (less if possible), and then drop Morgan back at Ifor’s and get away as quickly as I can to see… Jess… I’ve been taking things very gently for a whole month, so she’s had plenty of time in peace to examine her feelings. Please God, let her say yes, tonight.
He drew up, smiling at the thought, outside Zillah’s cottage. The old chairs had gone, but the garden still looked unkempt although, of course, it would hardly look its best in mid-February anyway. It had been unusually gloomy all day, and was now beginning to get dark at least an hour too early. There was a light on inside the cottage and the sound of Radio 3 was audible. Hector banged on the door and flakes of paint fell off.
‘Who is it?’
‘Hector Mudgeley.’
‘Well, well,’ Zillah opened the door and stood there impassively. ‘Hector Mudgeley, eh? Long time no see.’
‘How are you?’ Hector asked, noting with shock that she was very pregnant indeed.
‘Never better,’ Zillah said.
‘Can I come in for a chat?’
‘No, I’ll come out to your car. The boys will be back from school any minute, and I doubt you’d want them joining in.’
‘Well, no.’ Hector led her down the garden path to the Jaguar and opened the passenger door for her.
‘Same old car then?’ she said, getting in.
‘Naturally. It’s a collector’s piece.’ He got in too, and her scent and nearness reminded him of why he had once lusted after her. ‘How are your boys?’
‘Oh Christian did really well at school last summer. He’s got my dad’s brains, I reckon; took nine GCSE’s a year early, and now he’s sixteen and in the first year of his science A-levels.’
‘Very good,’ Hector agreed. ‘And Florian?’
‘Little sod! He’s just the opposite. I reckon it’s bad blood.’ She looked challengingly at him.
‘And how is Clive?’ (May as well double-check, Hector thought.)
‘Oh he buggered off years ago, but it wasn’t his blood I meant.’
‘But you told me Florian was Clive’s?’
‘Well I thought he was. Christian definitely is, but since they’re so very different in every possible way, it does make you wonder, doesn’t it?’
‘But no son of mine would steal cars!’ Hector protested.
‘Aha!’ Zillah said. ‘So, you do know about that. Is that why you’re here then, to lecture me for not keeping him under proper control? You should try it sometime. He’s slippery as black ice that one.’
‘Well maybe I could help?’ Hector suggested. ‘I’ve got a boy much the same age as Florian. They might get on well, you never kno…’
‘Not another vasectomy failure? Don’t tell me, his name’s Morgan?’ Zillah laughed.
‘Yes it is, as it happens.’
‘So what’s wrong with him then, that you need to come sniffing round after Florian?’
‘Absolutely nothing,’ Hector said, offended. ‘It seemed to be my common duty to make sure the child was all right, but if you’re just going to sneer…’
‘Mind you,’ Zillah said hurriedly, ‘I’m not saying we couldn’t do with some help…?’
‘No,’ Hector said. ‘This is clearly a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.’
‘Course, we could always take that paternity test you were so keen on?’ she wheedled. ‘Then we’d know for sure.’
‘Well…’ Hector wavered.
‘He’s not such a bad boy,’ Zillah encouraged h
im. ‘He’s a bit wild, but he’s goodhearted really.’
‘Can he read?’
‘Of course he can! He’s not stupid.’
‘All right then,’ Hector said, making a snap decision. ‘It’s a deal. I’ll find out what we have to do for the test. I think it involves all three of us giving a blood sample. Then I’ll let you know, OK?’
‘You’re on,’ Zillah said, opening the car door and getting out just as Christian arrived home on his bicycle. Hector wouldn’t have recognised him. He was so tall, and his dark hair was now long and scraped back into an unbecoming ponytail. He didn’t appear to remember Hector either, noting him and the car incuriously without a second glance.
‘Hi Mum, what’s for supper?’
Before she could answer, the school bus drew up and Florian leapt out.
‘Hello boys,’ Zillah said to them both. ‘Good day?’ The younger boy, illuminated in the bus’s headlights, looked exactly like Ifor Mudgeley had at the same age, apart from the hair.
My God, Hector thought with a start. He could be mine!
‘So, so’ Christian answered her over his shoulder, wheeling his bike towards the cottage. Florian said nothing at all. Instead, he twisted his face into a caricature of fear and disgust, then smiled sweetly and followed his brother up the path, slamming the front door behind him.
Zillah, standing by the car and still holding on to the door, raised her eyes to heaven. ‘Whilst you’re here,’ she said to Hector, ‘would you like your fortune told? It’s what I do these days. I’ve got a very stylish crystal ball.’
‘Not today,’ Hector said, so she pushed the door shut and waved him off. It was only after he’d left that Hector remembered he hadn’t asked her about the father of her third baby. Had he perhaps been lurking inside the cottage all along. Hector had an uneasy feeling that as usual in his encounters with her, Zillah had come off best.
Jess felt obliged to make a duty call on Wendy, but hoped Hector would be there as well, for moral support. So, knowing that he had left the office early to visit his wife, she bought a bunch of hothouse anemones and a Get-Well card, and drove to the hospital straight after work. However, she found the patient in her room alone, propped up on her pillows and reading a thin book with a lurid cover.
The Would-Begetter Page 18