Later, lying in bed, listening to the distant chug of the washing machine and the sound of cars swishing down the road outside the house, Alice was unable to sleep. She’d had a disturbing phone call from Jay that afternoon and couldn’t get it out of her mind.
“We need to talk,” Jay had said.
“We are talking,” Alice said, aware that she was deliberately missing the point, but nervous about what that point might be.
“No. Talk properly. Face-to-face,” Jay said. “The phone is — difficult.”
“Tell me about it,” said Alice. “Jay, we’ve been conducting our relationship mainly over the phone for four years now. I know the phone’s difficult. But it’s better than nothing.”
“Well, I still need to see you.”
“You’re — you’re going to dump me.” Alice had a sudden terrifying glimpse of a scenario in which she was despatched from Jay’s life in the course of a conversation in some distant pub, or worse, a lay-by.
“Of course I’m not!”
“Well, what then?” For Alice couldn’t think of anything more serious, and certainly nothing that couldn’t be discussed over the phone.
“Trust me, darling. This is something I need to talk about when we’re together. When I can see your face, and you can see mine.”
“Do you love me?”
“You know I do.”
“Then tell me. Please. You can’t leave me waiting like this.”
“Let’s make it soon, then. Can you meet me for lunch on Monday? I’ve got a good registrar. He can do my ward round, and I can catch up with him later.”
“Possibly. But I’ve got a deadline. I’ve got to get some work done on Monday.” That Jay was prepared to miss a ward round did nothing to reassure Alice.
“I’ll come over then, shall I?”
“You can’t come here! You never come here.”
“That’s precisely why I can come, just this once. Presumably Finn will be at school.”
“Well…”
“That’s fixed, then. I’ll come to your place at one o’clock on Monday. I’ll park round the corner and walk the last few yards. No one will see me. Trust me, Alice. It’ll be fine.”
“What? You parking round the corner, or whatever it is you’ve got to say to me?”
“Both, I hope. And don’t worry.”
Why is it that when someone tells you not to worry, it’s almost invariably because there’s something to worry about? Alice tossed and turned, going over the possibilities in her head. Perhaps Jay was ill. Maybe he had some dread disease — the dread disease (what an irony that would be!) — and that was what this was about. Or perhaps Angela was ill. Or could it be that Jay was tired of the lies and the duplicity, and if not exactly dumping her, was planning to tail off their relationship gradually. How would she feel about being tailed off? Alice decided that she would prefer to be dumped. At least that would be final, unequivocal. She would know where she was.
Sunday dragged. Trot took himself off as soon as his clothes were dry, muttering about having arranged to see someone. Alice knew that this would probably involve a long and jolly afternoon in a pub somewhere, and she felt for Finn, who was obviously disappointed. Finn rarely referred to Trot when he wasn’t around, but was oddly jealous when he was. Trot had never had official “access” to his son; he’d just arranged meetings when he felt like it. So he’d never been a weekend father, and Finn knew better than to expect to have him to himself for two days at a stretch. But Alice guessed that the invitation to stay the night had been issued in the hope that they’d be able to spend another day together, and now that was not to be.
“Never mind,” she said when Trot had said his goodbyes. “He’ll be back.”
“Who said I minded?” Finn said. “I don’t care what Trot does.”
“If you say so. Shall we get a DVD this evening? We could make some popcorn.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, Mum.”
“No one said you were. But I like popcorn even if you don’t, and you can choose the film.”
The DVD was not a success, being one of those incomprehensible American cops and robbers films, where it’s hard to tell who’s on which side, and everyone had such deep southern accents that it was impossible to understand anything they said. Both Finn and Alice had an early night.
On Monday morning, Alice couldn’t concentrate on her article. It was the product of an interview she had been granted by an ageing pop star whom she had never heard of and who had been both recalcitrant and rude, and she was in a quandary as to how she was going to manage to write something that wasn’t libellous. She decided that she was in the wrong frame of mind to solve the problem, and so she caught up on some housework instead. The deadline would have to be stretched, she thought mutinously, finding one of Trot’s socks behind the radiator (how could he have missed a sock when he had presumably come with two?) and rescuing his sodden towel from under the spare bed. Alice had never met Trot’s parents, who lived in Spain, but she had often thought that he must have been overindulged as a child. At least Finn was reasonably well trained, if you discounted his bedroom.
The hands of the clock in the hallway crawled towards one, and Alice went upstairs to change. She put on fresh jeans and a pretty top that showed off her breasts to good effect. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this, since Jay had never been particularly observant, but she felt as though she were arming herself for some kind of conflict, and looking good made her feel somehow stronger.
Jay arrived promptly at one, bearing a huge bouquet of flowers. This was not a good sign, since they had long ago agreed that flowers would attract questions, and therefore should be given only very occasionally (and when Alice could invent an acceptable donor).
“Oh dear,” she said, accepting the flowers and a kiss.
“Why? Don’t you like them?”
“Of course I like them. It’s just that you and I don’t do flowers.”
“Well, we do today.”
“I’ll put them in water.” Alice walked through into the kitchen to look for a vase. “I’ve made soup,” she said.
“Lovely.” Jay sat down at the kitchen table and watched her fetching bread and butter and putting out plates and cutlery. “You’re avoiding looking at me.”
“What do you mean?”
“No eye contact.”
Alice sighed. “I suppose I’m worried what I might see if I look at you properly. Look,” she said as she sat down beside him, “can we get this — this whatever it is — out of the way before we eat? I couldn’t face lunch at the moment.”
“All right.” Jay took her hand and held it between his. “There’s no easy way of saying this, but —”
“Just say it. Please.”
“Angela’s pregnant.”
“What?”
“Angela’s pregnant. I know,” Jay hurried on, “I know it’s a shock. It’s a shock for us, too. We never thought it would happen — never thought it could happen — but it has.”
“But — but how? I thought she — you — couldn’t have children. You had all those tests, all that treatment. You told me you’d both given up hope. That you’d got used to the idea of not having children.”
“Well, we had. But now it’s happened.” Jay shrugged. “Angela’s having a baby. After all this time.”
“But — isn’t she too old? I thought all that was in the past.”
“She’s forty-four. Well, she will be when the baby’s born.”
“You mean she’s going to have it?”
“Well, of course she’s going to have it! What did you expect? She’s always wanted children. You can hardly expect her not to have this baby after everything she’s been through. I thought you’d understand that. After all, you’ve got Finn. You know how much it means to a woman to be a mother. You once told me he was the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“That makes it all right, then, does it? The fact that I’ve got Finn makes it okay for you to go a
nd — and make babies with Angela? I didn’t even know you were still having sex!”
“I never told you we weren’t.”
“No, but from the things you’ve said, I assumed that that side of your marriage was over.”
“Well, it’s not. Not quite, anyway. We don’t do it often.”
“How can you do it at all? How can you leave me and then go home and make love to Angela? How can you be such a hypocrite?”
“I have to. Don’t you see? If I stopped making love to Angela, then she really would get suspicious.”
“Oh, very convenient. You just do it for me. Well, thanks very much.” Alice picked up a knife and stabbed at the tablecloth. “And of course, you don’t enjoy making love to Angela. It’s just a duty you have to perform. Poor old Jay. What a chore it must be, keeping two women satisfied.”
“Alice. Darling. Please don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what? I haven’t done anything! I’ve been the nice, undemanding mistress — always there if I’m wanted, but prepared to step down if you’re needed at home. I’m a little sideline, a hobby. An extramural activity.”
“Oh, Alice, I was afraid it would be like this. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to tell you face-to-face. At least when I’m here you can’t slam the phone down on me.”
“Jay, that’s not fair. I have never, ever slammed the phone down on you (or anyone else, come to that)!”
“No. It wasn’t fair. I’m sorry. But Alice, you’re not being entirely fair either. Anyone would think I’d planned this, when in fact nothing could have been further from my mind.”
The argument raged on, the soup burnt, and they ended up for only the second time ever in Alice’s bed, making violent, desperate love.
“I can’t bear it,” Alice sobbed afterwards, as she lay with her head on Jay’s chest. “I probably ought to be pleased for you, but I simply can’t bear it. Angela’s got everything. She’s got you, she’s got marriage, and now she’s having your baby.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve told you. It’s you I love; you I’ll always love. We can still be together. Still see each other. This doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything! Can’t you see that? You’ll be a family man, with new responsibilities. You’ll love the baby, of course you will, and you’ll want to spend time with it. Which will leave even less time for us. How will you possibly fit me in when you’re a new father?”
“I just will.” Jay sighed. “Because you’re too important to lose. We’ll find a way. We’ve always found ways up until now.”
“We’ve never had anything like this before.” Alice reached for a tissue and blew her nose. “How — how is she? How is Angela?”
“A bit stunned, very surprised, but pleased of course.”
“And — and you? How do you feel about it?”
“Oh, Alice, I just wish the baby was yours. Ours. For years I wanted children with Angela. I would have done anything to have them. But things changed between us, and now I don’t know how I feel. Trapped, I suppose. Before, I had the choice. I chose to stay with Angela because of everything we’d been through, but there was always the other option, like a door I could go through if I really needed to. Now that door’s closed. Now I don’t have any choice, do I?”
When Jay had left, Alice sat at the kitchen table and wept. Of all the things she had feared might happen to her and Jay — and she must have considered most eventualities — she had never in her wildest dreams envisaged this. Angela, who was unaware that she was involved in any kind of power struggle, had unwittingly made the best move she could possibly have made. With marriage and a baby on her side, how could she fail?
Alice struggled through the next couple of weeks, worn out with worry and lack of sleep. On the surface, nothing had changed between her and Jay. They managed to meet once, and spoke almost daily on the phone. The subject of babies was not mentioned. A couple of times, Finn asked her whether she was all right, but seemed satisfied — even sympathetic — when she said she was just a bit under the weather. Yet again, she wished there was someone she could talk to, but of course there was no one. It occurred to her that she could have phoned Gabs or Mavis, but she didn’t feel she knew them well enough yet to burden them with this, so she kept her grief to herself.
In the end, rather surprisingly, it was Trot who came to her rescue.
Trot had recently moved house and now lived only a few miles away. He’d said at the time that he was downsizing, but Alice suspected that it was so that he could be nearer Finn. Whatever the reason, he’d taken to popping in from time to time, usually when Finn might be expected to be at home, and almost invariably unannounced.
“I’ve come for my sock,” he told Alice, taking off his shoes and placing them neatly on the doormat.
For possibly the first time in days, Alice actually laughed. “Your what?”
“My sock. I left it here. It’s one of a lucky pair.”
After a brief search, Alice produced the sock.
“I can’t believe you want this back,” she said. “It’s full of holes.”
“Ah, but I do.” Trot regarded it fondly. “It — they — were given to me by a girlfriend after I’d taken her to this fabulous hotel. We had a four-poster bed and lovely fluffy bathrobes, and —”
“Too much information, Trot,” Alice said, thinking that socks were an odd way of saying thank you and wondering how Trot could afford to stay in fabulous hotels.
“You’re right. Too much information.” Trot stuffed the sock in his pocket. “So, what’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong with me?”
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I probably do.”
“Well, are you going to tell me?”
Alice hesitated. For the first time that she could remember, she was tempted to confide in Trot. He was often childish, frequently irritating, and always irresponsible, but there was something basically nice about Trot, and she was pretty sure that he could keep a secret.
“It’s a man. It’s got to be a man,” Trot said.
“What do you mean, it’s got to be a man?” Alice bridled. “I do have other things in my life, you know.”
“Yes. But you’re the strong type. I guess not much gets you down. But man trouble would. You’ve got a soft heart, Alice, even though you like to pretend you haven’t.” He settled himself comfortably on the sofa. “Now, are you going to tell me or not?”
Alice sat down opposite him and thought about it. “I suppose it would be nice to talk. But, Trot, this is confidential. It has to be confidential.”
“A married man, then,” said Trot with satisfaction. “I thought as much.”
“Trot, if you’re going to be like this, I shan’t tell you anything.”
“Okay. Sorry. But you so rarely let me in on your life that I can’t help feeling… well, not pleased exactly, but — I don’t know — privileged perhaps. And of course, your secret’s safe with me. Apart from anything else, who could I possibly tell? You and I don’t exactly move in the same circles.”
So Alice told him. She told him about meeting Jay, about their affair, and finally she told him about the baby.
“Goodness. That’s a bit of a bugger, isn’t it?” Trot said when she’d finished.
“You could say that. Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I honestly don’t know. I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and all I know is that I can’t live with the idea of Jay’s wife having a child, but I can’t live without him, either.”
“You could marry me,” Trot said after a pause.
Alice looked up, expecting to find that he was teasing her, but his expression was serious.
“Oh, come on, Trot! That’s a ridiculous idea!”
“Thanks very much.”
“I’m sorry, but you know what I mean. You and I? Married? It
would never work.”
“It might. And we make nice babies. That’s a start.”
“We made one nice baby, and that was a very long time ago.”
“True.”
“Besides, we don’t love each other.”
“Don’t we?”
“Okay. Let me put this another way. Do you love me, Trot?”
“Well, not love exactly, but —”
“There you are, then.”
“You’re right,” Trot said. “It was a silly idea. But just for a moment, it seemed to make sense. And Finn would love it.”
“But it wouldn’t solve anything, would it?” Alice said. “I’d still love Jay, and you’d still want your freedom.”
“I guess so.”
After Trot had gone, Alice thought about his proposition (it could hardly have been called a proposal). She didn’t doubt that for a few moments, he had meant what he’d said, but she also suspected that in those few moments, the prospect of a bigger house, with a cook-housekeeper thrown in, must have had a certain appeal. As for Finn, she didn’t think he would be particularly pleased at the idea. He had never mentioned the possibility of his parents being married, and Alice suspected that things suited him very nicely the way they were. He liked having Trot to himself, and if she and Trot were married, he would have to share him.
Alice sighed. It wasn’t really marriage she wanted; it was Jay. And if she was to keep Jay, it would have to be on his terms (or the terms dictated by his situation).
But then, wasn’t that the way it had always been?
Mavis
The morning after the meeting with Gabs and Alice, Mavis was still wondering whether she’d imagined Maudie’s comments the previous evening. “Bad girls,” she had called them, and that could only mean one thing. Somehow Maudie had found out about Clifford.
“But how long have you known?” she asked Maudie. “However did you find out about — about my man friend?”
“Always known,” Maudie replied. “Have you seen my teeth anywhere?”
The Frances Garrood Collection Page 33