The Would-Begetter

by Maggie Makepeace

  ‘Keep all the car windows shut,’ he instructed the excited Morgan. ‘Hell’s teeth! The little bastards had better not scratch my paintwork!’ Then the people in the vehicle behind them began feeding the monkeys illicitly with bits of banana, and they all abandoned the Jaguar forthwith.

  ‘I want them to come back so’s I can feed them too,’ Morgan complained.

  ‘Sorry,’ Hector said, ‘it’s not allowed. Can’t you read the notice?’

  ‘But they are. It’s not fair!’

  ‘There’s nothing fair in this world,’ Hector said comfortably.

  As days out go, it went fairly painlessly. They saw giraffes, zebras, deer, shaggy cattle, camels, lions, tigers and wolves. Even Morgan was impressed. They visited the amusement park near to the Great House and Hector was just beginning to think that it was about time they started making tracks, when Morgan saw the maze, and rushed headlong into it past a large sign which said: EXIT. The first drops of an April shower began to fall.

  ‘Morgan!’ Wendy called. ‘That’s the wrong way…’ but it was too late. He’d vanished. ‘Oh no! she said, turning to Hector. ‘Now what do we do?’

  ‘Well there’s no point following him,’ Hector said. ‘We’d only go round in circles. We’ll just have to wait until he comes out again.’ He glanced at Wendy. She was looking worn out. ‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘You go back to the car and keep dry. I’ll hang on here. I can always get one of the staff to winkle him out if the worst comes to the worst.’

  ‘Well… if you’re sure?’

  ‘Sure.’ There was nowhere to shelter where he could be certain of seeing Morgan emerging, so Hector pulled his coat collar up, stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood it out. In fact he welcomed time to be alone, so that he could think uninterruptedly about Florian.

  The child’s outburst of swearing the day before had frankly shocked him. Those coarse words issuing from such cherubic lips had been an abomination. Clearly something had to be done, but what? He had given Zillah a cheque to be going on with, but a more formal arrangement would have to be sorted out soon; perhaps a good prep school? Or should he even go the whole hog and offer to adopt Florian to prevent him from going to the bad? No, Wendy would never wear that, and Morgan and Florian might well hate each other on sight. He supposed he could always leave Wendy (well provided for, of course) and marry Jess instead. But would Jess be prepared to be a stepmother to Florian? So many imponderables, Hector thought, if this? if that? I need someone to help me sort it all out, there’s only one person I want to talk to.

  The rain was falling solidly now. Hector could feel it seeping down his neck. Come on Morgan, for God’s sake! he thought, and then, why do I of all people have to have a son who can’t read? There’s no justice. Oh there he is at long last… Typical – he doesn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed!

  ‘MORGAN!’ he bellowed irritably. ‘Over here!’

  ‘Hang on a mo, Jess,’ Hector said, putting out an arm to detain her. Nigel and two of the Subs were just going back to work, and the George and Pilgrim was almost empty.

  ‘Well…’ Jess hesitated. ‘I’ve got a lot on this afternoon.’

  ‘Ten minutes?’ Hector suggested. ‘That’s all I ask.’

  ‘Well all right.’ Jess sat down again. Hector wasn’t sure how to begin. Jess looked expectant and then, to fill the gap, asked, ‘How’s Wendy?’

  Hector didn’t want to be reminded. It was now six weeks since she had come out of hospital and as far as he could see, nothing had changed.

  ‘She went for her final check-up with our GP yesterday,’ he said.

  ‘And is she OK?’

  ‘The Doctor asked her if she had “attempted intercourse”.’ Jess grinned. ‘Have you got to grips with Everest yet, Mrs Mudgeley?’

  ‘You’re not joking,’ Hector said with feeling.

  ‘I probably shouldn’t ask, but do you and she… anymore?’

  ‘Course not!’ This wasn’t what Hector wanted to discuss at all. ‘Look Jess, I’ve got something I want to tell you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It happened years ago – seven and a half to be precise, so it has absolutely no bearing on my special feelings for you now. You have to understand that first.’

  ‘What?’ Jess looked suspicious.

  Hector decided to plunge straight in. ‘That boy, Zillah’s son who was caught stealing a car, remember? Well it wasn’t Christian. It was the younger boy, and well… I’ve discovered he’s actually… my… son. His name’s Florian.’

  ‘He’s WHAT!’

  ‘I’m his father. We, that is Zillah and I, have had DNA tests done.’

  ‘But why now, after all this time?’ She frowned. ‘And anyway, way back when he was born, you told me the baby was Clive’s?’

  ‘Well we both thought he was. You see, I hadn’t seen the boy since then, until I heard he’d been in court this February, and then I felt I just had to go and check up on him. When I saw him, I suppose I knew straightaway…’

  ‘You never mentioned it?’

  ‘I know. I thought it might be better to wait until I was certain. I mean… I might have been mistaken.’

  ‘So where’s all this going to end?’ Jess cried, holding up her hands to count off the children. ‘So far there’s been Wendy’s, Caroline’s, and now Zillah’s! How many more of your offspring are likely to come crawling out of the woodwork? I mean it’s nothing at all to do with me, but it’s still a bit much…’

  ‘You’re saying Caroline’s daughter IS mine?’ Hector was triumphant.

  Jess blushed scarlet. ‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t supposed to… it just slipped out. Look, forget I said that, OK? I’m just so confused…’

  ‘Is she?’ Hector persisted.

  ‘Yes,’ Jess said, ‘but please don’t tell her I said so.’

  ‘Good Lord,’ Hector said quietly. So my instincts were right there too, in spite of Caroline’s lies. Bloody hell!’

  ‘But where is all this leading?’ Jess asked. ‘It’s only of academic interest, surely?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Hector said. ‘Children need fathers.’

  ‘But Flossie (or whatever his stupid name is) has Clive, and I’m sure Hannah has any number of substitute fathers.’

  ‘Wrong, I’m afraid. Clive has disappeared, and as for multiple fathers, they can never be substitutes for one proper one.’

  ‘So what are you going to do about it; split yourself three ways?’ Jess demanded angrily.

  ‘Jess, darling, don’t get cross. I’m sorry to spring it all on you at once. I agree it’s a mess, but it all started a long time ago, long before I had the sense to fall in love with you. I was kind of hoping that you’d help me sort it out.’

  ‘What can I do?’ Jess shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Just talk through the options with me; help me to clarify my own thoughts.’

  ‘Go on then…’

  ‘Well to start with,’ Hector said, sitting back with a sigh, ‘I’ve obviously got to help support Florian. His mother lives on benefit plus a bit here and there from her pottery and some cash-in-hand nowadays from fortune-telling, I believe.’

  ‘You should be consulting her then! But seriously, would the money be a problem?’

  ‘Not really. It’s just that I feel I ought to do more – give the boy a better start in life – rescue him, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘Well…’ Hector shuffled his bottom, ‘… what if I adopted him?’

  ‘You’re joking!’ Jess was horrified. ‘You can’t possibly expect Wendy to take that on! I know if I was in her position, I’d tell you to go to hell!’

  ‘Ah,’ Hector said. ‘I was afraid you’d think that. Well… that rather answers my next question too…’

  ‘Anyway,’ Jess said, still reeling from the outrageous suggestion, ‘from what you’ve told me of both Morgan and Florian, they’d hardly be likely to get on well together, would they? It’d be
a nightmare! Wendy might be a bit thick, but even she wouldn’t be that stupid! And what about Zillah’s ideas on the subject?’

  ‘I haven’t suggested it to her yet. So… you think I should pay up and leave things as they are?’

  ‘Well, what other choice do you have?’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Hector sighed, ‘but I will expect to see something of Florian. I’ve got to get some reward for maintaining him.’

  ‘Does he know? Have you seen him?’

  ‘Yes, once.’

  ‘And what was his reaction?’ Hector told her. Jess laughed. ‘The little brat!’

  ‘Look, Jess,’ Hector said, glancing at his watch. ‘There isn’t time now. We’ve both got work to do, but I thought I might come round to your place at six-ish. There’s a lot we need to discuss.’

  ‘I’m not going to bed with you,’ Jess said firmly. ‘Just as long as that’s quite clear.’

  ‘Well… if you say so,’ Hector agreed. In his experience women nearly always said that, to begin with.

  Jess had second thoughts when Hector turned up at her flat with a bottle of claret and a confident smile. She knew she should have put him off, but she did so enjoy his company. She just hoped he was quite clear where she drew the line. They went through into her sitting room and sat down facing each other.

  ‘Where does Wendy think you are?’ she asked, to remind him of where his loyalties lay.

  ‘Working.’

  ‘Won’t she think it’s odd that you’re doing extra work all of a sudden?’

  ‘She’s been moaning that I work too hard ever since I first married her,’ Hector said. ‘So if she knew I wasn’t working, she ought to be happy.’ He looked pleased with himself. ‘What a merry little irony.’

  ‘You’re horrible to her,’ Jess said.

  ‘I know,’ Hector looked penitent. ‘I’m a shit. It’s just that she gets on my nerves so. You can see why, can’t you?’

  ‘Mmmmm,’ Jess could.

  ‘And anyway I genuinely have been working hard on the farm animal rustling story. Apparently it’s piglets as well as sheep now. At first I couldn’t understand how anyone could steal anything so squealingly vocal as pigs, but it seems they spray them with some sort of gas to shut them up, poor little blighters.’

  ‘Do the police know who’s doing it?’

  ‘They’re getting very close. Any day now.’

  ‘Can the animals be identified?’

  ‘Seems not. Some farmers are starting to talk about ear-tagging but that sounds a bit like “Never putting anything off, until tomorrow, after the horse has bolted” to me.’

  ‘Do you do it on purpose?’ Jess challenged him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know very well! Wait while I dream one up… yes… “You can’t make a silk purse without breaking eggs” or “You can’t make an omelette out of a sow’s ear” – that sort of gibberish!’

  ‘Oh that,’ Hector said. ‘I just enjoy improving each shining hour.’ He smiled seductively. ‘I mean, proverbs get so tediously repetitious, don’t they. Now then, are we drinking this wine or not?’

  After her second glass of claret, Jess appeared to Hector to be more relaxed. He decided to risk it and, leaning over, slipped her glasses off and put them down on the coffee table; pleased when she made no protest. I have never been beaten in this game yet, he thought. This is a tough one, but I’ll get there. Then he chided himself for treating Jess as just another potential conquest. She was much more than that. He really did believe he was in love with her! The knowledge both amazed and tickled him.

  He set himself the task of charming her. He told her his best jokes, his most ironic anecdotes, and more of his family secrets. He felt he had never before opened up so much, or made himself so potentially vulnerable. Jess’s reserve was visibly thawing. The tip of her nose had gone a little pink. Hector bent and kissed it.

  ‘Is it hot, or is it just me?’ she asked, blushing. Then she dragged her sweater off over her head and threw it on to a chair. Her hair stood up untidily and she smoothed it down with both hands.

  Hector could see the outline of her nipples through her T-shirt. Didn’t she wear a bra? By the looks of things, she would pass the pencil test easily (unlike Wendy)…

  Hector’s trousers felt uncomfortably overstocked. He shifted himself about a bit to relieve the pressure. ‘Jessy…’ he began. She turned limpid eyes towards him and caught her breath. He reached out and stroked her face with the palm of his hand. She began to lean towards him.

  ‘Let’s go to bed,’ he whispered. Jess frowned.

  Damn! he thought, Have I bloody blown it? She’s looking embarrassed. I’ve got carried away and gone too fast. He drew back, all prepared to apologise, but she gave him a reassuring smile.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Bad timing I’m afraid. I’ve got to go to the loo.’

  As she went out, Hector sat forwards with a sigh of relief. She had disrupted the mood he had so carefully been building, but he could soon re-establish it – now that he knew he was going to win…

  But when Jess returned from the bathroom, he saw at once he was wrong.

  ‘I’m sorry, Hector,’ she said. ‘This is a mistake.’

  By mid-April Wendy was starting to feel more like herself again. She had known her operation was a major one, but hadn’t anticipated how long and by how much it would enfeeble her. Now, two months on, she began to be able to contemplate difficult tasks with more equanimity, and the most daunting of these was discussing Morgan’s future education with Hector. She would have to do it sooner or later, and probably the sooner the better since Hector kept nagging the poor child about his reading. Perhaps, Wendy thought, perhaps when he understands, he’ll lay off him. I certainly hope so.

  She chose her moment carefully one Sunday evening after Morgan had gone to bed, and Hector seemed to be in a good mood. She brought him a whisky and sat down on the sofa beside him.

  ‘Hector?’

  ‘Mmmmm.’

  ‘I think we should talk.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Morgan.’

  ‘What about him?’ Hector asked, looking round at her at last.

  ‘I think I know what his problem might be – with reading, I mean.’

  ‘Morgan’s problem, as you so delicately put it, is easily expressed in our wonderful English idiom as plain old-fashioned sloth, apathy and indolence. In other words, he’s a dozy idle toad! I love him dearly but…’

  ‘But do you?’ Wendy put in.

  ‘Do I what?’

  ‘Love Morgan?’

  ‘Well of course I do. He’s my son!’

  ‘Yes, but do you actually like him?’

  ‘What sort of bloody stupid question is that?’ Hector snapped. ‘No, don’t bother to answer. My programme’s just starting.’ And he reached for the remote control and zapped the television on.

  Oh no! Wendy thought, that’s blown it. I must discuss it with him soon, but I can’t do it when he’s cross. Trouble is, he’s cross most of the time these days. Maybe I’ll get a chance during the week.

  But Hector was not cheerful until the following Friday, when the Chronicle came out with his story on the front page:

  Police Swoop On Rustler Gang Nabs Four.

  Wendy saw the headline early that evening on a stack of newspapers in the supermarket, which she had put off visiting all day, safe in the knowledge that it remained open late on Fridays. Right! she thought, I’ll definitely talk to him tonight. I do hope he isn’t home very late. He always used to get off early on the day the paper came out, in the good old days.

  She wheeled her trolley up and down the aisles, picking out food more or less at random. She couldn’t remember when she had last felt so miserable. She was positive Hector must be having an affair, because when she’d done one of those questionnaire things in her women’s magazine, under the headline: IS YOUR MAN CHEATING ON YOU? her total score had come to 43 – at the high end of YES. But Wendy
could not bear to challenge him about it. She really didn’t want to know, because all the time she wasn’t sure, it might conceivably not be true…

  She eased her trolley round into the next aisle, holding on to its side with one hand, and on to the bar with the other. It was one of those defective ones which veer sideways whichever way you try to push them. At the far end, she saw a man doing his shopping with four small children, two on foot, and twins side by side in a double trolley. She paused a moment to watch them. The two elder ones were choosing things from the shelves. The two smallest occasionally turned to drop packets in behind themselves. Their father, who had his back to her was laughing – she could hear him – and rearranging things in the trolley, apparently enjoying buying groceries. Wendy smiled. They looked like a perfectly adjusted family, as harmonious as a television advertisement. Then she got nearer and saw that the man was Barry. He looked slimmer, more mature, even quite attractive!

  ‘Barry!’ she said, going right up to him. ‘How are you?’

  He looked pleased to see her too. ‘How lovely to bump into you,’ he said. ‘We’re fine, as you can see.’

  ‘It must be over a year since I last saw you,’ Wendy said.

  ‘Since we stopped having those office parties at Christmas,’ Barry agreed. ‘Shame about that. I used to enjoy them. Remember that fancy dress one ages ago?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Wendy said, remembering cast-off feathers on the bedroom floor with a pang of nostalgia. ‘That was the best of all.’

  ‘So, how’s Morgan?’

  ‘Oh he’s all right,’ Wendy said, and sensing that this sounded rather unenthusiastic, added quickly, ‘It’s Easter holidays of course. He’s away playing at a schoolfriend’s house.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Barry said. ‘My eldest two can’t wait to go to proper school, can you?’ The two girls nodded their heads gravely. The twin boys in the trolley gurgled happily. ‘Well,’ Barry said, ‘great seeing you again, but I suppose we’d best be getting on. A man’s work is never done. I’ve seriously considered staying late at work, just to get some rest!’