The doctor looked startled, though not half so startled as Lissa. She attempted to laugh it off, then flinched as once more Philip’s hand fastened upon her knee. ‘Please, Philip. Doctor Robson is enjoying an evening out. He has no wish to discuss medical matters.’
Philip rarely relinquished an argument once begun, certainly not when his inhibitions were at their lowest. ‘He knows well enough what I mean. What sort of a quack are you? Damned inadequate in my view.’
‘I’m sorry you’re dissatisfied, Brandon,’ the doctor said, quite equably, lifting his soup spoon. ‘Whatever it is I’ve done, I hope you’re not about to sue me for it.’ Several people tittered, partly from amusement, partly embarrassment.
Lissa could hardly contain her shame. She could feel her cheeks firing up, acutely aware of the growing interest about her. Voices deliberately lowered as people waited to hear what it was the doctor had failed to do. Waitresses pretended not to listen to what sounded very like the start of a matrimonial dispute, which they would be sure to relate with relish in the kitchen the moment they returned from handing out the dishes of asparagus soup and bread rolls.
‘How long is it now that you’ve been treating her? The twins are two and a half years old and still no sign of another child. You incompetent old fool.’
Lissa’s cheeks flared to bright red. ‘Philip, please! Not now. You’re embarrassing me.’
Hush, woman, I’m talking to this nincompoop.’ The hand on her knee gripped tighter and Lissa let out a tiny whimper.
Doctor Robson turned to her, a frown on his round face. ‘Come and see me in the morning, Lissa. We’ll talk about it then, see what we can do for you. This isn’t the moment, Brandon.’ So saying, he applied himself to his soup.
Philip leaned forward across the table, pushing his flushed face as close to the doctor’s as he could and speaking in a loud whisper that not a soul in the room could miss. ‘Are you suggesting the case is hopeless? That my wife has turned barren?’
In the loud and dreadful silence which followed, all movement ceased. Not a hand moved, not a soup spoon lifted.
Except for one red-headed waitress who chose that precise moment to place a bowl of soup before him. Perhaps Philip moved or jolted her elbow, no one could be entirely sure, but the bowl missed the edge of the table and hot soup poured all down the front of his black evening trousers.
Pandemonium broke out, and low-pitched, stifled laughter. Philip leapt to his feet, shouting his rage and agony, demanding the waitress be dismissed on the spot. Bringing the manager scurrying.
‘I’m going,’ she said. But not before she had placed one hand on Lissa’s shoulder and given it an affectionate squeeze. Lissa looked up into Renee’s sympathetic face.
‘Common as muck, that’s me, but I don’t let nobody push me around. Certainly not a jumped up, full of himself, no good tyke like Philip Brandon.’ Renee’s hands stilled in their kneading of bread dough as she stared, appalled, at Lissa. ‘Crikey, what’ve I said? I didn’t mean it like it sounded. He’s your husband, for God’s sake.’
In bright tartan trews and an emerald green T-shirt, the whole covered by a huge white apron, and her once bleached hair now a bright orangey red to match her lips and backcombed to within an inch of its life, Renee looked the very picture of a fulfilled and happy woman. Apart from the fact that her voluptuous figure filled the clothes a touch more tightly, gone was the lethargic, whining creature who had never moved from her fireside. Lissa felt a pang of envy at her obvious contentment.
‘It’s all right. I do understand what you’re saying and in a way I agree with you, it’s just that…’ Lissa searched her mind for a way to explain the complications of her marriage. ‘Philip needs me, and I want to make him happy.’
‘Except in this. You don’t want another kid?’
‘No.’
‘But they’re gorgeous.’
They both gazed at the two girls, happily swathed in tea towels and rolling out grey pieces of dough on the end of the table.
‘And all my maternal instincts are quite satisfied, thank you. I don’t need to go through it all again.
‘So tell him.’
‘I can’t. He’s keen to try for a boy.’
Renee glanced sharply at her. ‘You’ve been using summat. Right?’
Lissa, hunched on a tall stool, nodded her agreement. ‘A diaphragm. Doctor Robson didn’t know Philip wanted another child. Until last night.’
‘Now the fat’s right in the fire.’
Lissa nodded.
Renee sucked in her breath, then picking up the lump of dough flung it back on to the floured board and began pummelling and rolling it with fresh vigour. Clouds of flour flew up and settled in drifts on her red hair. In her mind the dough might well have been Philip Brandon’s head. She wished it was, for the contempt with which he’d treated Lissa at the dinner last night. Humiliated her, rotten toad, fondling her before everyone and then revealing her private business. ‘So what did the good doctor say when you saw him this morning?’
Lissa, an incongruous picture of elegance in the untidy kitchen in a sleeveless dress of ice blue linen, hair hanging in a single plait down her back, gave Renee a woebegone look. ‘He expressed his surprise.’
Both girls’ eyes met and held while the dough was neglected. ‘I’ll bet he did. Let me get this straight. Your husband thinks you’ve been going to the doc for help to get pregnant again, only the doc has actually been helping you stop babies from coming? Is that the way of it?’
There was a glint of merriment now in Renee’s eyes and for the first time that morning Lissa began to see the funny side of her predicament and twisted her lips into a smile.’ It does sound a bit odd, I suppose, put like that.’ She glanced at the twins, stopped Sarah from putting some of the disgusting mixture into her mouth and helped Beth stick currants into hers.
‘No, darling. We must cook it first.’
‘I’d say it was pretty confusing for any chap to understand, even someone as clever as a doctor. A woman now, would catch the drift right away.’
‘Oh, Renee.’ Laughter was bubbling up in her throat. Where it came from, Lissa couldn’t imagine. She certainly hadn’t felt like laughing earlier when she’d faced Doctor Robson’s glowering disapproval and listened to his lecture on wifely duty. It had taken all her courage and skill to persuade him not to divulge this information to Philip, which he’d threatened to do for all it would mean breaking a patient’s confidence. Now she was holding her sides as if it was the funniest thing in the world.
Renee was screaming with laughter, flour going everywhere as she circled the kitchen gasping for breath. The twins, entranced by the sight, started to shout with laughter too though they had no idea why. ‘Oh Gawd, what a laugh. Crikey, I’d love to see his face when you tell him the truth!’
Lissa tumbled from the stool and grabbed hold of Renee, shaking her slightly to make her stop laughing and take the matter more seriously. ‘Philip must never know. That’s the whole point. I don’t ever want him to find out. Do you understand, Renee?’
Renee stopped laughing to look deep into the violet eyes, darkly shadowed in an unusually pale face. She could feel the very slightest tremor in the hands that held hers, the wrists seeming so frail and thin they might snap in two at any moment. ‘I’ll put the dough to rise then I think we might have a drop of sherry. For medicinal purposes.’
‘Maybe I should be getting back. Nanny Sue will wonder where I am.’
‘Let her. Old po face. Come on, you two whipper-snappers. You can go and sleep on my big bed while I bake your dough men. OK?’ She swept Sarah into her arms while Lissa followed on with Beth.
Ten minutes later they were more comfortably seated in Renee’s living room, still untidy with newspapers and discarded clothing. Exactly as Lissa remembered, except that the chirping budgie seemed to have departed, for the cage stood empty. Renee did not remark upon this, so neither did she.
She was suddenly glad to be
here, in Renee’s uncomplicated company, and for the first time in months felt herself relax. She wondered why she’d kept away so long.
Renee took a sip of the sherry, sighed with pleasure then set her glass on the mantelshelf.
‘Why did you marry him then?’ The bluntness of the question took Lissa by surprise.
‘I-I’m not sure. I liked him, I suppose, he was charming and kind and good looking. He seemed a safe bet.’
‘So what’s gone wrong? Come on, lovey, let’s be having it. Has he been knocking you about? Because if he has…’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘What then? You and me have a lot in common, y’know, both being married to older men like. Mind you, Jimmy could give your Philip a few years and he’s a long way behind in the looks department. Is it the age thing that bothers you?’
Lissa shook her head. How could she explain the depths of the terrible mistake she’d made by marrying Philip? She’d made her bed, as they said, and must lie in it. With him. But she couldn’t talk about all that, not with Renee, not with anyone. It was too intimate.
‘I never did understand why our Derry left the way he did,’ Renee was saying. ‘Mind you, what a mess when he came back that time! Took me days to calm Jimmy down.’ She hurried on, not explaining how he’d found his son in his wife’s arms. ‘You two seemed made for each other.’
Lissa pressed her lips together and stared out of the window on to the back garden. She could see the shed at the bottom of it, the one where Derry had presumably slept for several months at Renee’s instigation. But he hadn’t left Carreckwater simply because Renee had asked him to move out. He could have found other digs in town. Even after all this time Lissa had come up with no answer except the obvious.
‘His head was full of his own ambitions. I couldn’t compete with a guitar or the promise of a recording contract.’
‘He never got it, poor mite.’ Renee looked mournful as she reached for her sherry. ‘Played his socks off all over Manchester and London to no avail.’
Where Derry was, or what he was up to, was no longer any concern of hers. ‘What is he doing these days?’ The words came of their own accord.
‘He’s gone abroad, hasn’t he?’
‘Where?’ She didn’t care. She only hoped he was miserable as hell, as miserable as she was.
‘America, would you believe? Do you think he might meet Acker Bilk? Ooh, I love that record don’t you, ‘Stranger On the Shore’?’ She began to hum the tune.
‘I’d believe anything of Derry Colwith.’
‘That’s men for you. Never there when you want them.’ Renee took several sips of her sherry. ‘Broke Jimmy up it did, his only son and heir going off like that at a moment’s notice. Mind you, we’ve decided against kids of us own. ‘Jimbo’s had enough of all that, and I don’t want the responsibility. I fancy this new pill, don’t you? I’ll give it a try when they get it sorted out.’ She stared at the cage. ‘I might get a parrot.’
Lissa felt a sudden spurt of laughter but managed to restrain it. It would be too cruel. Renee might be brash, greedy, oversexed, possibly verging on the amoral judging by the gossip there was about her guest house, but no one could doubt that her heart was in the right place. She meant well for all her clumsiness on occasions, and was the only person Lissa had found in an age who was prepared to be on her side now that Jan had gone.
‘I’ll never forget the look of shock and outrage on his face when the soup poured down his legs,’ Renee said, spluttering over her sherry.
‘Oh, golly, yes.’ And they were both off laughing again. It made Lissa feel so good to feel young and carefree. When they’d mopped up their tears and more sherry had been poured she said,’ I shall continue to lie, about wanting more children. If it saves an argument.’
Renee looked doubtful. ‘You can’t keep it up for ever.’
Lissa turned her face away, not wanting to meet the inquiring gaze.
‘So what is it? What’s really wrong? I’m not daft. I can see there must be summat else.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m bored.’ Lissa felt her heart jump as the words popped out and realised for the first tune how true they were and how much that bothered her. She took a deep breath and began to pour out her heart. ‘Philip expects me to be the perfect little wife. Beautiful, charming, hosting his dinner parties, entertaining him each evening with a gin and tonic and adoring attention.’ The sherry had loosened her tongue and she warmed to her theme.
‘I don’t even get to spend much time with my own children, except for an hour or two each afternoon. He expects his house to look like something out of the Ideal Home Exhibition with me devoting my entire life to achieving such a miracle. He’s so very particular and has such high standards yet treats me like Dresden china, or a weak fool incapable of intelligent conversation let alone holding down a job.’ She lifted clenched fists in helpless appeal. ‘He goes out to meetings most nights and sometimes I think I’ll go mad, with no one in the house to talk to but two babies, a starchy nanny and the vacuum cleaner. Can you understand?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Renee, nodding wisely. ‘I understand perfectly. That’s why I miss my Peter since he passed over. Jimmy’s never away from that boat yard. Mind you, I have my guests, in the summer at any rate. The long winters can be a bit of a drag. That’s why I help out at the Marina Hotel now and then. Bit of company like, as well as a few bob in the pocket. You should try it.’
Lissa shook her head in despair, an expression raw with lost hope on her drawn face. ‘There’s nothing I can do. Philip wouldn’t allow it. I’m a possession, like a sofa or a fine picture. And if I’m not careful, the bearer of an increasing brood of children which will keep me very securely within doors.’
The familiar sensation of fear beat slowly in her stomach, the sickness sweeping right up into her gullet. She felt like a prisoner. Yet how could she ever escape without a job, without money of her own? And did she really want to? ‘Philip needs me at home. He’s said so a million times.’ And she wanted him to need her, didn’t she? What else did she have? She couldn’t risk losing him.
‘I wouldn’t let that stop me.’
Lissa drew in a trembling breath, aware she must remain composed. ‘Simply not on the cards, he says.’
‘Bugger his cards,’ said Renee, reaching for the sherry bottle and refilling the glasses for a third time. ‘If you can lie about the baby thing, why can’t you lie about that too?’
Lissa blinked. ‘What are you saying?’
‘How will he know if you’re working, if you don’t tell him? So long as you’re home by the time he is and the house is done and dusted, he’d never notice. Men never see what’s right in front of them, everyone knows that. Anyway, you could employ a cleaner. Surely you can afford one?’
‘He expects me to look after our home myself. Anyway, Nanny would tell. She’s very proper. Likes to do everything by the book.’
‘Not if you bribed her not to.’
‘Bribed?’
Renee smiled. ‘Threatened her with the sack if she split on you.’
Lissa looked shocked. ‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Ask her nicely then.’
‘I’d never get away with it. Would I?’ Why was she even considering it? The idea was utter madness.
Renee propped her feet on the mantelshelf while she considered. ‘Pretend to take up charity work. Most ladies of your class, if you’ll pardon the expression, are out and about all day and nobody has a blind idea what they’re up to. Take up good works. The Lissa Turner - sorry - Brandon, Save-Her-Sanity Committee.’
They were both hooting with laughter again. Before the sherry bottle was halfway down they had begun to devise a plan.
Following the evening’s débâcle, which he blamed entirely on the clumsiness of the stupid waitress, Philip insisted that the hotel pay for his dinner jacket and trousers to be dry cleaned. He returned three days later to collect them, repeating his annoyance at the in
cident and his hope that the waitress, whoever she was, would pay out of her wages. When he’d vented his wrath he agreed to be mollified by a glass of malt whisky in the bar, courtesy of the management.
‘Got to keep them on their toes,’ said a voice at his side. Philip swivelled round to find himself addressed by a young man with fair, floppy hair and tortoiseshell spectacles that kept slipping down his nose. His dark grey suit was clearly brand new and the white collar he wore looked odd against the pale grey of his shirt, giving him an almost clerical appearance. A clipboard and measuring tape reposed on the bar counter beside a half empty glass of beer.
Philip said, ‘Very true,’ and returned to his whisky.
After the usual discussion about the weather and the failings of hotels in general, a subject close to the man’s heart apparently, he informed Philip that he was a consultant. ‘Andrew Spencer.’ He held out a hand which Philip reluctantly shook. ‘For Manchester Water Board. They’re the bogeyman round here, in case you didn’t realise.’
Philip gave a dry smile. ‘I believe so.’
‘They’ve learnt a bit since Thirlmere were built. That’s what started it all off.’
‘Indeed?’
The Manchester man warmed to his theme. ‘The mistake they made then was to concrete the shoreline. Too hard and unnatural, d’you see? Then they stopped folk from using the new lake, which again didn’t endear them to the natives, as you might say. They don’t make those sort of mistakes these days.’
‘I see.’ Philip tried to look interested though his mind was on Lissa and how she had actually refused his essential needs these last three days and nights. He blamed it all on that doctor. If he didn’t set her right soon, Philip meant to go and tackle Robson himself, women’s complaints or no. A man was entitled to a son if he wanted one, to carry his name forward to the next generation. He never loved Lissa more than when she was soft and vulnerable with pregnancy, smelling of babies with breasts swollen with milk. He felt an ache start up in his loins even now at the thought and hastily took a large swig of whisky.
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