‘I doubt that.’
‘Oh Hannah, she will. She loves you to bits.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes, really.’ Jess worried about how she would broach the subject of guilt, responsibility and Wendy, as she had promised, without upsetting Hannah, but it came up naturally sometime later, when they’d stopped for some food.
‘People can’t help being born?’ Hannah said, hesitating over a plate of egg and chips.
‘Of course not. Look, Hannah, Wendy asked me to give you a message.’
‘Yeah?’ Hannah looked wary.
‘She says what she did is absolutely NOT your fault, or Florian’s. It’s entirely between her and Hector.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes, honestly.’
‘Cool!’ She took a huge mouthful of chips, looked up at Jess and even smiled.
They made it back to London in good time, and Jess watched as Hannah ran up the steps to her front door, and straight inside without bothering to close it behind her. Then she heard, with satisfaction, Caroline’s delighted cry of ‘Hannah!’ before going down into her basement flat. Home at last.
For the next few days Jess was frantically busy catching up with her work, but each night before she went to sleep, she lay in bed and wondered where her life was going. Would she ever achieve a good relationship with a man, and have children with him? Or, were men an optional extra? She rather liked the idea of living alone, and taking lovers when she felt like it. Caroline certainly seemed to manage that sort of arrangement very efficiently, but then she never got emotionally involved with any of her men. Could I be so detached? Jess wondered. Would I even want to be?
Do I know what I really want? Do I actually hanker after children? I don’t believe I do, now. If I had some, I couldn’t possibly go on working the way I do. I think I’m beginning to come round to the idea that women ought to make a choice between having a career and having babies (women like Caroline and me that is, who have the luxury of choice). It doesn’t seem to work when people try to do both.
But what about this biological clock that’s supposed to be ticking away inside all of us women? Then she thought, it’s all nonsense – we’re just brainwashed into thinking that we’re not fulfilled unless we’ve given birth. That may well be a reality for the majority, but for a growing minority of us, it simply isn’t true! She lay, staring into nothing for a while, and then she thought, I may not want children, but I do need something more than just work. I’d like a satisfactory emotional life, so I do need a man. But should it be someone like Hector? And on this question, and still irresolute, she fell asleep.
Caroline came round the following evening. ‘Thanks again for bringing Hannah home,’ she said. ‘I think I was too incoherent the other night to thank you properly. I’m just SO grateful.’
‘It was entirely her idea,’ Jess said. ‘I didn’t earn any brownie points.’
‘You OK?’
‘Just about,’ Jess said. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.’
‘What about?’
‘Oh, my life and what to do with it. The usual problems.’
‘And?’
‘No…’ Jess said slowly, ‘I can’t say I’ve come to any conclusions at all.’
‘You will,’ Caroline assured her. ‘I’ve always found the hardest decisions in life tend to be made for one, by circumstances. You just have to trust in the Fates. Anyway, I can’t stay. Just wanted to share two bits of good news.’
‘Yes?’ Jess encouraged her.
‘The first is that Vivian’s moving to London, so it looks as though I’ll be seeing more of him. The second is that I got that job!’
Jess rushed to hug her. ‘Congratulations!’
‘Thank you.’
‘You must be so chuffed!’
‘I am,’ Caroline said happily. ‘Now, must dash. I just had to tell you straight away.’
‘I am SO pleased,’ Jess called after her. The telephone rang and startled her. ‘Hello?’
‘Jess? It’s me.’
‘Oh Hector, how’s things?’
‘Dire. Look Jess, I really need to talk to you. Could I come up next weekend? Ideally I’d like to have made it this Saturday – the day after tomorrow – but it’s no good. There’s still too much Wendy and I have to sort out…’
‘But what’s wrong? Is Wendy ill again?’
‘No, just the opposite; she appears to have made a remarkable recovery. The doctors are delighted with her.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘She only wants a divorce! That’s what’s wrong. Honestly Jess, I just don’t know what to think. There’ve been so many times over the years when I would have jumped at the chance, but now… just when Morgan and I are getting on so well… I just don’t know what to do for the best. I really need to talk to you, Jessy-boot. There isn’t anybody else who understands me half as well. How about if I ring you tomorrow? I’ll have more time then.’
‘But… would it be such a good idea?’
‘Who cares! I’m drowning Jess, and you’re my only life-belt. Don’t let me down.’
‘Well, if you put it like that…’
‘Good on you, cariad. Who knows, this whole mess might be a blessing in disguise for both of us.’ Then he hung up.
Jess sat and frowned at the floor. Had Hector really meant what she thought he had? Was she wrong, or had she just been nominated as First Reserve, in the expectation of Wife No.1 retiring from the scene? She found the sudden possibility of actually getting what she (secretly) thought she’d always wanted daunting in the extreme. Then gradually, it began to grow on her.
Next evening, and every one after that, Hector telephoned, and they had long talks. Jess found herself inexorably drawn into the arguments which were raging between him and Wendy, and she was often confused, unsure which of them she felt the most sympathy for. Hector, of course, took it for granted that she would unhesitatingly side with him.
At first Jess got the distinct impression that it was only his self-esteem that was hurt, because Wendy wanted to divorce him, and that, had it been the other way around, he would have been much less upset. She gathered that Wendy had changed, and become assertive and distinctly unfeminine. Hector complained that, after all he had done for her, she was now rejecting him, and he didn’t understand it. Then later he seemed to be trying to convince himself that divorce might be the right thing to do after all, but only on condition that he would keep custody of his son.
‘Well of course I see your point,’ Jess said. ‘But Morgan’s fourteen now, isn’t he? In five or six years he’ll be grown up and leaving home anyway. And five years is nothing!’
‘So you do think divorce is the answer?’
‘No, Hector, I didn’t say that.’
‘I’m sorry, Jess. I know I shouldn’t ask. It isn’t fair. And I’m not trying to put pressure on you. I just love listening to the sound of your voice.’
She put the phone down after this conversation, sighing. There was no doubt about it, she was fond of the man. Perhaps eventually she and Hector…? After all, she would hate the thought of him being alone and miserable. And they had known each other for a long time, and they rubbed along together so easily and laughed at the same things… When you thought about it like that, it would be a lost opportunity if they ended up apart, wouldn’t it? Jess warmed to the idea.
But then a few days later, he said something unsettling. ‘Maybe I should jack-in Mudgeley Goggles and come to London to seek my fortune. I could lodge with you for a while, couldn’t I, Jess?’ And she had this alarming vision of Hector, permanently unemployed, bored rigid, needing constant attention, expecting regular meals, and hurt if she had to spend any time at all away working. And she felt the panic rising within her; found herself saying something sharp and unkind to him, like:
‘You’re a bit old to be Dick Whittington, aren’t you?’
So she alternated uncomfortably between these two extremes, looking for
ward almost fearfully to the impending weekend when Hector would arrive; wondering if she should cancel his visit, knowing that when she saw him, all her doubts and niggling feelings of caution and unease would probably be swept aside by the force of his personality, and the comfortable safe feeling of his companionship. But maybe that’s what I need, she mused. Or is it?
Then unexpectedly on Thursday, and again on Friday evening, Hector didn’t phone. Jess wondered what was going on. She debated whether she should ring him instead, but decided against it. It was a welcome breathing space.
On Saturday morning she woke with feelings of foreboding and thought, Oh Lord! It’s today! However, it wasn’t Hector who arrived on her doorstep at noon.
‘Oh!’ Jess said, opening the door. Her welcoming smile dropped abruptly. ‘… Wendy?’
‘It’s OK,’ Wendy said. ‘Hector’s fine, and he knows I’m here.’
‘Oh… good.’
‘So, can I come in for a moment?’
‘Yes… sorry. I was just a bit surprised.’ Jess led the way inside. ‘Would you like a coffee or anything?’
‘Cup of tea’d be nice,’ Wendy said.
‘Come into the kitchen then.’
Wendy sat herself down at Jess’s scrubbed pine table. She had a new smooth, grown-up hairstyle. In fact she looked remarkably self-possessed. ‘I gather your job’s going well,’ she said. ‘Making lots of money.’
‘Not bad, yes,’ Jess admitted.
‘I fancy getting a job,’ Wendy said. ‘Part-time of course, because of Morgan.’
‘Good idea,’ Jess agreed. ‘I’m sure it’s a mistake for mothers to work full-time.’ She put Wendy’s tea down in front of her but remained standing, leaning against the wall.
‘You are?’ Wendy seemed surprised.
‘On reflection, yes.’
‘Poor Barry’s found he can’t even work part-time, you know? He nearly killed himself trying!’ Wendy made a gesture of self-mockery at the unintentional irony. ‘So he’s had to give up journalism altogether. Such a shame; he loved his job, did Barry.’
Jess wondered where all this was leading, but she bided her time. ‘Have you spoken to him?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes,’ Wendy said. ‘I’ve seen quite a lot of him just lately – wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help him, you know.’
‘And was there?’
‘Well, to be honest, not a lot. He’s so busy coping with all those kiddies, he hasn’t a moment to call his own. But he was pleased I tried.’
‘I’m sure he was.’
Jess drank her coffee and regarded Wendy over the rim of her mug. Wendy put hers down, and looked straight up at her. ‘Hector’s been talking about marrying you, after our divorce goes through,’ she said.
‘Oh…!’ Jess said, startled by her directness.
‘Does that mean he hasn’t got round to asking you yet?’
‘Well… no. It’s news to me!’
‘But would you?’
‘No!… well, perhaps… Oh I don’t know!’ Jess felt exasperated.
‘Mmmm,’ Wendy said. ‘I thought as much. He was only trying to make me jealous. He’s been dead against divorce all along in actual fact, but then he’s a man – he has his pride.’ Jess nodded in a way she hoped was encouraging. ‘Course,’ Wendy went on, ‘I blame myself for a lot of our problems. When you’ve been together as long as me and Hector have, you get so’s you take each other for granted. But I’ve had plenty of time to think lately, and I reckon I haven’t been attending to his… needs… enough, if you understand my meaning?’ Jess nodded again, mutely. ‘So,’ Wendy said, warming to her subject, ‘we’ve made this mutual decision and I wanted you to hear it straight, face to face, so you’d understand. OK?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘It’s like this then – We’ve been married for over fourteen years, right? And we’ve got a lovely home, and marriage is never easy at the best of times. But I do love him (always-have), so I’ve decided to work at it, and Hector’s promised to try harder too. And I’m definitely going to go for a job, so’s I’ll have some money of my own. And this way, Morgan won’t suffer, which is the most important thing. So the upshot is; I’m NOT going to divorce Hector after all!’ Jess stared in admiration at this new, determined Wendy.
As far as problem-solving was concerned, Jess had always known that the best way to discover what you really wanted, was to let someone else cast the die for you. Then, judging by whether you felt instantly liberated or immediately regretful, your true inclinations became clear. In that moment, she knew at once that she valued her career and her independence above everything; that she would never have been able to cope with all the complications that go with passion. She sat down opposite Hector’s wife, put her elbows on the table, and cupped her chin in her hands.
‘Thank you, Wendy,’ she said. ‘I think you’ve just saved my life.’
‘And now you can save mine,’ Wendy said.
‘How?’
‘By letting me talk to you?’
‘Well…yes of course… but I don’t know quite…?’
‘You’re closer to Hector than anybody else but me,’ Wendy said firmly. ‘So I know you’ll understand. I just want to get it all off my chest. Right?’
‘By all means,’ Jess said. She was feeling so irresponsibly generous, she would have agreed to anything. It was an emotion she was beginning to identify as relief…
So Wendy talked, and Jess made her cups of tea (and later lunch), and occasionally said encouraging things like, ‘Yes,’ and ‘Mmmmm,’ and ‘Oh I do understand,’ and also, ‘Really?’ and, ‘Good Lord!’ and, ‘He didn’t?’ And when, from time to time, Wendy’s eyes began to leak, Jess handed her tissues without comment, and the tears dried up very soon, but the talking went on.
Jess rang for pizzas for their supper, and pressed Wendy to stay the night. ‘You can always phone Hector to tell him.’
‘D’you know?’ Wendy said, ‘I think I will!’
After supper, they sat on opposite sofas with their shoes off and their feet up, drinking gin and tonic. ‘I’m so glad you came,’ Jess said.
‘So’m I,’ Wendy agreed. ‘I feel ever so much better.’
‘But there’s still one thing that bothers me.’
‘What?’
‘Well, I think I do understand why you love Hector,’ Jess said, frowning, ‘in spite of the way he’s treated you. And if you’re sure he’s really sincere in his promise to do better in future…?’
‘Oh he IS,’ Wendy assured her.
‘… But I suppose I’m just a bit concerned that, as usual, he’s getting it all his own way – d’you see what I mean? You’ve been through all this together, and he’s been totally selfish and done exactly what he wants, over the years, and then in spite of everything, he ends up with all the prizes – you and Morgan. In other words, he’s won!’
‘Oh no he hasn’t!’ Wendy giggled. Jess looked across at her in surprise. ‘I shouldn’t laugh,’ Wendy said. ‘I know it’s not nice, but I can’t help it!’
‘What?’
‘Well, this was what turned everything around, you see. Hector was so upset, and I comforted him, and well…one thing led to another, and it was brilliant!’ She took a hefty swig of gin and sat back, laughing.
‘Go on,’ Jess urged, ‘the suspense is killing me!’
‘Well,’ Wendy said, ‘I suppose I can kind of appreciate how devastated he’s feeling, since it’s SO IMPORTANT to him. But I don’t properly understand why? I reckon it’s a load of nonsense myself.’
‘What is? You’re doing this on purpose!’ Jess said, laughing too. ‘More gin?’ She poured them both another glass.
‘OK, I’ll start at the beginning,’ Wendy said. ‘It was Thursday – day before yesterday. Right? And we all three went over to Ifor’s house for tea, and guess what? My sister-in-law June (who’s forty five) turns out to be eighteen weeks pregnant! She said she would have told us earlier, but s
he was that embarrassed! So now she’s had this amniocentesis test done, and it seems the baby’s fit and healthy, and…’
‘Don’t tell me,’ Jess interrupted, shaking her head. ‘It’s a boy, yes? A son and heir? The eleventh Baronet, no less!’
‘Got it in one!’ Wendy whooped, and they both collapsed in laughter.
Jess wiped the tears from her eyes and held her glass high. ‘A toast!’ she cried. ‘To him. To US. To the future!’
The End.
This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Reader
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Copyright © Maggie Makepeace 1997
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The Would-Begetter Page 30