‘I was just the same at your age,’ Hector said ingratiatingly, pleased to be getting on so well with him.
‘So, what went wrong?’
Hector was saved from having to find an answer by the entrance of Zillah and Florian. She had put on a grubby housecoat and was carrying the new baby in her arms. ‘All settled,’ she said briskly. ‘He knows why I want him to visit you, and he also knows he can come home tomorrow if it doesn’t work out.’
‘But that’s not nearly long enough,’ Hector protested. ‘Tell you what, Florian. If you stick it out for three days, I’ll give you twenty pounds. What d’you say?’
‘Shall we contaminate our fingers with base bribes?’ Christian quoted. ‘Julius Caesar. Did it last year in English.’
‘Thank you, Christian,’ Zillah said. ‘That’s quite enough of that.’
‘Well?’ Hector asked.
‘Make it thirty,’ Florian said.
‘Twenty-five, and that’s my final offer.’
‘Oh all right then, but only two days.’
Hector laughed. ‘You’re a tough customer,’ he acknowledged. Florian looked pleased.
‘Off you go then,’ Zillah urged. ‘Here’s your bag. Have fun, and no swearing, promise?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Florian said.
He picked up his bag, slung it over one shoulder and ambled slowly out of the front door and down the path to Hector’s car. Hector followed him, giving a little wave to Zillah and Christian as he went.
‘And the best of luck!’ Zillah called mockingly.
Hector went round to unlock the passenger door of the Jaguar.
‘Hasn’t it got central locking?’ Florian asked in disgust.
‘This is a Classic car’ Hector explained. There’s nothing new and gimmicky about this old beauty, except the earphone I use for work. He pointed out the walnut fascia and the leather upholstery with pride.
‘No electric windows? No tape player?’
‘No, thank goodness.’
‘There aren’t even proper seat belts!’
‘Look, Florian,’ Hector said sternly, temporarily lapsing from his assumed role of ‘understanding parent’. ‘If you’re coming with me, then come with a good grace, OK? I can’t abide whingers.’
Christian watched from the window as Hector and Florian left, and then turned frowning to his mother. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘One minute you’re telling Florian he doesn’t have to go and live with Hector and the next, you’re virtually throwing him out. What’s going on?’
Zillah sat down and began to breast-feed the baby. ‘It’s quite simple,’ she said. ‘I need money from Hector to maintain his son, and he’s more likely to be generous if he thinks he’s going to get some access to Florian.’
‘But isn’t this visit just a one-off?’
‘Probably.’
‘So what’s to prevent Hector stopping the cash flow the moment he stops seeing Florian?’
‘Well, once he’s started paying a regular amount, he’s set a precedent and it’ll be that much harder to stop. But if he does, I’ll set the Child Support Agency on to him.’
‘Do that and you’ll get less benefit. I heard the CSA is just an excuse for the government to get their hands on the father’s dosh.’
‘You’re a bit young to be so cynical, aren’t you?’ Zillah smiled up at him.
‘So anyway’ Christian said, ignoring this, ‘how did you twist Florian’s arm and make him go?’
‘I told him Hector’s threatened that if he isn’t granted any access, he’ll start a custody battle and the Judge might make him go and live with Hector full time.’
‘But is that true?’ Christian was horrified.
‘It’s a distinct possibility’ Zillah was not about to reveal the implausibility of this to Christian. She desperately needed a break from Florian for a few days, and this was a heaven-sent opportunity.
‘But you wouldn’t really let him go.’
‘Of course not, silly! You and Florian, and now Alaric here, are all my boys. I wouldn’t dream of letting anyone else take you over. It just seems time to get Hector to perform some fatherly duties whilst I get a much needed break. He owes it to me.’
‘But if Florian only stays with Hector for a couple of days, it won’t help much, will it?’
‘Maybe not, but at least they’ll get to know each other, and once Florian is a real person to Hector, it should be easier to persuade him to shell out.’
‘Fleece him, you mean?’
‘No. Get him to meet his obligations.’
‘But what if Florian plays him up?’
‘I’ve told him why he mustn’t. I’m sure he understands.’
‘Seems to me the poor little sod’s in an impossible position: (a) Be himself, and then Hector will hate him and won’t give us any money, or (b) Be sweet and lovely, and Hector won’t give us any money either. He’ll love him so much that he’ll take us to court and kidnap Florian for ever! How’s that for choice? If I was him, I’d definitely go for (a) the aversion therapy, and to hell with the money!’
‘I think actually there are more than two possibilities,’ Zillah said.
‘Name another!’ Christian challenged.
‘Not for the moment. Just wait and see,’ and Zillah smiled again, but enigmatically.
Chapter 19
When Wendy first saw Florian, he definitely reminded her of someone but she couldn’t think who. She didn’t know anyone with hair that colour. She wondered if he would have the famous redhead temper. So far at least he was very quiet, barely speaking at all. Perhaps he was shy? Morgan had been excited at the thought of having someone to play with, and had confided to her that he would welcome anyone from a different school, because they wouldn’t call him Organ Pudg-eley. Poor Morgan, Wendy thought. It’s only puppy fat, but children can be so cruel.
Florian’s clothes, when he unpacked his duffle bag, looked cheap and worn and there were very few of them. Wendy felt sorry for him. She would have offered him some of Morgan’s, the ones he was tired of, but the boy was quite a different shape, taller and much thinner. He needed feeding up, but wasn’t in the least puny. At the first supper in Hector and Wendy’s house, after he had eaten three helpings of stew and two bowls of ice cream, Morgan had challenged him to an arm wrestling contest at the table and Florian had won easily. Then Hector had wrestled Morgan and let him win a little too obviously, but when he came to compete against Florian, he really had to try to avoid being defeated at first push. Morgan looked on, eyes shining with admiration. Oh good, Wendy thought in relief, they’re going to get on. Maybe it won’t be so difficult after all.
The following morning Hector ran Florian to his school whilst Wendy took Morgan as usual to his. Morgan was clearly envious of Florian for not having to wear school uniform, which was silly of him, Wendy thought, considering how sweet he looked in his little blazer.
On the second evening Hector was home nice and early, and they all played snakes and ladders. Florian won, and Wendy privately thought he had cheated, but since Morgan seemed happy she decided to say nothing. She wondered how long he would be staying. Hector had said ‘a few days’ which meant nothing. Wendy had hoped to get Florian to talk about his family, but he seemed resistant to conversation with adults. He didn’t mention Clive at all (which was understandable, since he’d deserted them all), and he was only monosyllabic about his mother, but after he and Morgan had gone to bed in their shared room, Wendy could hear them both chattering away and Morgan giggling. When she went in, to tell them to stop talking and go to sleep, Morgan was pink with excitement and looked somehow furtive. Wendy frowned, but then assuming they were telling each other dirty jokes, smiled to herself and forgot it.
In a funny way she felt rather good about taking Florian in temporarily, as though she were doing a good deed by helping the underprivileged. The boy himself seemed impressed by the number and quality of Morgan’s toys. He clearly had nothing like this at home. He appa
rently hadn’t played many board games either, but was very quick on the uptake.
On the third evening Hector got fed up with the two boys larking about in the garage and on the front drive, and produced the Scrabble set. Wendy’s heart sank. She tried to dissuade him by saying, ‘Oh Morgan hates Scrabble, don’t you love,’ but Hector wasn’t having any of it.
‘He and Florian can both play against me,’ he said, ‘do a joint effort, pool their letters. I’ll still win.’
‘Oh no you won’t!’ Florian countered, rising to the challenge. Then he took over. He was a bit bossy, Wendy thought, but a natural leader. She went to do some cooking and left them to it, and when she came back half an hour later she found Morgan and Florian helpless with laughter and Hector trying unsuccessfully to stifle his.
‘What’s so funny?’ Wendy asked. Morgan pointed. On the well-criss-crossed board in front of them, lay the word BUMHOLE. ‘You can’t have that!’ Wendy cried. ‘It isn’t in the dictionary so it’s not allowed, and anyway it’s very rude!’
‘But it’s a triple word score,’ Florian protested between giggles.
‘That makes no difference. Hector? I’m ashamed of you. You’re supposed to be in charge. You’re supposed to be preventing…’ The presence of the boys inhibited Wendy from saying any more, but she felt instinctively that Florian was exerting a malign influence on Morgan, and should be stopped at once.
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Hector said, still smiling. ‘I reckon that if intelligence is catching, then we’re on to a winner here.’ Florian glanced at Wendy unblinkingly. His clear blue eyes looked up at her with an expression that was candid, childlike, innocent. Wendy suddenly thought she heard something boiling over in the kitchen, and rushed to see to it.
Later, after both boys had gone to bed, Wendy finally seized the opportunity to speak to Hector. He was sitting back in the sofa, chuckling at Florian’s exploits. ‘He’s a game little chap,’ Hector said. ‘Of course his upbringing has been hopeless and he’s been exposed to foul talk and all sorts of undesirable habits, but he’s got spirit, if you know what I mean. I have a feeling that his IQ is pretty high. There’s a lot of potential there, I’m sure of it.’
‘You seem more interested in him than you are in Morgan!’ Wendy challenged.
‘Rubbish.’ Hector brushed the suggestion aside.
‘And you still haven’t told me where you were on the night of the fire.’
‘Sorry?’ Hector said. ‘Have I missed some vital connection there, or are you just emitting words at random?’
‘You were with Zillah Brakespear, weren’t you?’ Wendy accused him. ‘And this baby of hers is yours, isn’t it. That’s the connection!’
Hector laughed. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. ‘WRONG!’ he chortled, ‘on both counts.’
‘Stop laughing,’ Wendy snapped angrily, ‘and swear to me that you aren’t having an affair with Zillah.’
‘God forbid!’ Hector said. ‘OK, I swear. I swear her baby isn’t mine either. Cross my heart!’
‘You really promise?’ Wendy pleaded.
‘I really promise. What extraordinary ideas you do come up with sometimes. Now come over here you silly sausage and give us a cuddle, eh?’
Wendy allowed herself to be hugged, and they sat back on the sofa together. She studied Hector’s face closely. He did seem to her to be completely sincere. She felt as though a great burden of anxiety had been lifted from her, and only now did she realise how crushing the weight had been. Now would be a good time to tell him about Morgan, and really discuss the problem in depth. She turned to him. ‘Hector?’
‘Wendy?’
‘Morgan isn’t lazy you know. I’m sure he’s got a condition that stops him from being able to read and write and spell easily.’
‘What condition? What are you on about?’
‘Dyslexia.’ Wendy crossed her fingers as she said the word.
‘There’s no such thing,’ Hector scoffed at once. ‘It’s just a trendy middle-class excuse for the thick! You know how it goes: working-class Kevin is just plain stupid, but upwardly-mobile middle-class Tristan is dyslexic. Come on Wendy, face facts. Morgan just isn’t very clever.’
‘You’re so wrong!’ Wendy said desperately. ‘Dyslexia is real. I should know. My brother had it, but no one knew what it was in those days, and then he married into a family that had it too, and now both his sons go to special dyslexic schools in Australia and they’ve really come on…’
‘You never told me!’ Hector interrupted, suddenly furious, leaping to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at her. ‘Before I married you, I asked you if you had any disabilities in your family, and you said NO!’
‘You said madness, not disability,’ Wendy insisted, ‘and anyway it’s not a disability, it’s just a different ability.’
‘Splitting hairs!’ Hector sneered.
‘You don’t know,’ Wendy shouted. ‘You’re very ready to criticise, but you don’t understand the first thing about it! Morgan’s teachers agree with me, and if you ever took the time to come to parents’ meetings you’d know that, and you’d understand he needs special tuition!’
‘Stop shouting,’ Hector said. ‘You’ll wake the boys.’
‘I’ll shout all I want in my own house!’
‘So what do you expect me to do about it then?’ Hector asked wearily.
‘I want to have Morgan properly assessed by an educational psychologist.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Wendy. The child’s only seven!’
‘Yes, but the sooner we know, the sooner he can be helped. He’s not happy Hector, and your attitude to him doesn’t help.’
‘Oh I see. It’s all my fault now, is it?’
The door of the sitting room opened and Florian came in, yawning and looking fed up.
‘Florian?’ Wendy said, disconcerted. ‘Can’t you sleep?’
‘No,’ Florian said. ‘And I’m off home tomorrow, right? I’ve bin here three days, an’ I want me thirty quid.’
‘You want what?’ Wendy asked.
‘All right, Wendy,’ Hector said. ‘This is between Florian and me. Come on young man. Let’s get you back to bed, shall we?’ And he took him by the arm and ushered him out of the room.
Wendy slumped back against the sofa and thought bitterly, Great! I knew he wouldn’t believe me about Morgan’s dyslexia. I must try to convince him.
But when Hector came downstairs again, he said he had work to do, retired to his study and shut the door firmly, so no further discussion was possible.
Next morning Wendy woke suddenly as though a loud crash had roused her. Noises from the road outside were rarely heard in their bedroom at the back of the house, so she wondered if she had imagined it. Hector was solidly asleep beside her and snoring irritatingly. She looked at her watch. It was six thirty. She decided she might as well get up, and in passing quietly opened Morgan’s door to check on the boys. Florian was there, in the spare bed, fast asleep, but Morgan’s bed was empty and his clothes were missing from his chair. Wendy ran over and shook Florian awake.
‘Where’s Morgan?’
‘Uh?… Dunno…’
‘But did he say where he was going?’
‘No.’
‘And you can’t guess?’
‘Nah.’
Wendy tore round the house and the back garden, calling for Morgan. Then she went out of the front door. Hector’s precious Jaguar (which no one, not even Wendy herself was allowed to borrow) wasn’t in its usual place at the top of their steep drive. Then she saw it, and realized at once what must have happened. The car was slewed sideways at the bottom, with its front end buried in one of the stone gateposts. Wendy rushed down to it and saw with horror that its beautiful, long, shiny bonnet and one wing were badly dented, the front bumper was hanging off and there was a trail of bright green anti-freeze from its fractured radiator. The keys were in the open offside door, but of the driver there was no sign. Wendy ran out into the roa
d and looked wildly up and down. It was empty but for the milkman who was passing in his float. Wendy waved her arms and dashed out in front of him.
‘Stop! have you seen a little boy, blond hair, plumpish, wearing a red sweatshirt?’
‘Five minutes back? Yes, I reckon I did.’
‘Was he hurt?’ Wendy gasped. ‘Did you see?’
‘Shouldn’t think so, judging by the speed he was running!’
Zillah met Florian off the school bus that day. ‘So, how was it?’
‘Fucking awful!’ Florian said. ‘Hector’s bloody old an’ Morgan’s just a fucking kid!’
‘Let’s have a little less of the effing and blinding, shall we?’
‘Can’t help it.’ Florian shrugged. ‘But I didn’t never swear once over there.’
‘I’m proud of you,’ Zillah smiled. ‘What’s Wendy like?’
‘All right. Food were brilliant!’
‘And d’you reckon Hector likes you?’
‘Oh yeah. He’s totally pissed-off wiv Morgan mind,’ Florian grinned. ‘Gave him a real belting s’morning! Made me late for school an’ all.’
‘Why?’
‘’Cos he crashed that stupid old car! Course he weren’t really driving it; he don’t know how,’ Florian made a pitying face. ‘Told me he pushed the handbrake down, and nuffing happened – car just creaked a bit – an’ then he gets all clever like, trying out the pedals…’
‘And it was in gear?’
‘Musta bin. So he stands on it an’ ZOOM! down it goes, YEE… EEE… POW! SMASH! Cor, wish I’d’a bin there!’
‘And weren’t you?’
‘No way,’ Florian said virtuously. ‘Sleeping in bed, me.’
‘But the night before you’d been telling Morgan a few tall stories about driving, perhaps?’
‘I might of,’ Florian said matter of factly. Zillah raised an eyebrow. ‘Not going back there, mind,’ he warned. ‘Tha’s it!’
‘You won’t have to,’ Zillah said. ‘But Hector’s coming round to talk money tomorrow, so remember to go on being polite, eh?’
‘Dunno about that,’ Florian said puffing out his cheeks like a middle-aged builder asked to give an estimate. ‘I might’ve fucked off somewhere.’
The Would-Begetter Page 22