A Girl's Guide to Modern European Philosophy

by Charlotte Greig

“James,” I said, interrupting him. “Do you mind if I call you James?” There was a note of recklessness in my voice.

  “Well, I'd feel a bit odd if you called me Mr. Belham,” he said, smiling but looking a little unnerved.

  “I was just wondering … are you … umm?”

  He waited patiently.

  “Are you married?”

  “Yes. But my wife and I are separated. At the moment.” He looked down at the table. I got the impression he didn't want to discuss it further.

  “I just wondered,” I went on. “I just wondered if …”

  Belham was looking nervous now, but there was nothing else for it. I didn't have time to beat about the bush.

  “Do you find me attractive?” I blurted out at last. “At all?”

  Belham looked as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. My heart was beating fast.

  “Because it's just that …” I carried on, unable to stop now. “If you did … I would. I would too. You know.”

  Belham put his elbows on the table and began to massage his forehead, the palms of his hands shielding his eyes. He looked exhausted. Then he spoke.

  “Ermm,” he said. He paused. He was trying to be kind. I knew what it was, he didn't remotely fancy me. I was just like Dennis to him. The hairs began to prickle on my scalp.

  “The thing is, Susannah, you're my student. And you're … er, pregnant,” he said. “And apart from that …” He paused. “I'm in love with my wife.”

  There was a long silence while we both looked down at the tablecloth and I tried not to squirm in my chair.

  Then I said, “Oh God. I'm sorry. I feel such an idiot.”

  Belham didn't speak, but put out his hand and touched my arm.

  “No, you're not,” he said at last. “You're brave. You say what you think. Don't stop doing that.”

  I pulled my arm away. “I think I'd better go.”

  “No,” he said. “Sit down. Don't rush off. I've got nothing much to do this morning. Let's pay up here and go for a walk along the seafront, shall we?”

  “I can't. I feel too embarrassed.” I started putting on my jacket and scarf.

  “What's there to be embarrassed about? You're a beautiful young woman, Susannah. I'm flattered. But it's not the right time for either of us. I'm sure you know that really. So let's just forget about it and put it behind us, shall we?”

  Belham was a cool guy. I got the feeling that this sort of thing happened to him all the time, and he'd learned how to deal with it. But all the same, I sensed that he wasn't just humoring me, that he genuinely liked me. He'd said I was a talented philosopher and a beautiful woman, and I felt sure he didn't say that to every second-year undergraduate who threw themselves at him. What's more, he seemed lonely and unhappy that day, and in need of company.

  “OK,” I said. “But don't ever mention it again.”

  He grinned. “I won't. I promise.”

  Then he turned and waved the waitress over to our table.

  chapter 26

  WHEN I GOT BACK TO CAMPUS, I went straight up to my room and found Rob's phone numbers. Then I went downstairs to the phone box in the lobby to call him. I tried the first one he'd given me, but he wasn't there. The same thing happened with the second. On the third try, I finally got hold of him.

  “Hi,” I said. “It's me.”

  “Why didn't you phone before?” He sounded annoyed.

  “Oh, I had a few things to sort out,” I said. “But now … could you come down and see me?”

  “When?”

  “Well, now really. Right away.”

  He gave a sarcastic laugh. “I might have some things to sort out myself.”

  I ignored the hostile edge to his voice.

  “I'm sorry, Rob,” I said. “I'm not mucking you about. You'll understand when you get here. I'm in a very serious situation and I need your help.”

  His tone changed. “What is it? Are you all right?”

  “I can't talk about it over the phone. Where are you, anyway?” I hadn't recognized the area number.

  “At my grandparents'.”

  “It's not in Scotland or anything, is it?” I was panicking slightly now. Maybe I'd left it too late. Maybe he wouldn't be able to get here in time.

  “No, Woking.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Woking was somewhere just outside London, as far as I knew. He'd be able to make it by evening.

  “Hang on a minute,” he said, and put the phone down.

  I heard some talking going on in the background and then he came back on again.

  “I'll have to get the train,” he said. “I've left the car down in Brighton. I can get in at quarter to seven.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I'll meet the train. Is it the London one?”

  “Yes.” There was a pause and then he added, “Susannah, it's not easy for me to get away today. There's a family do on here and I'm going to miss it now. My mother's furious. You'd better not be pissing me about.”

  “I'm not. Honestly, I'm not. I really need you to be here.”

  “OK, see you later, then.” He still sounded annoyed. “Six forty-five. Make sure you're there. Bye.”

  “Bye.” I said, and put the phone down.

  I went back upstairs to my room, relieved that Rob had agreed to come down, and began clearing the books and papers off the floor. I tidied them away on the shelves above the desk, and cleared my clothes off the bed, folding each garment carefully and putting it away in the cupboard. Then I lay down and stared up at the ceiling. I needed to think.

  Everything seemed to be going very fast, too fast to keep up with. In the space of just a few weeks, I'd slept with Rob, got pregnant, split up with Jason, and propositioned Belham. I didn't seem to have a clue what or who I wanted, and now, with the abortion looming up tomorrow, it was time to make some decisions. As I tried to focus on what to do, the tarot card that the Crowley freak had been playing with on the train drifted into my mind: I saw the lovers, one dark, one fair, and the baby in between them. I tried to picture the details of the card: were there two babies, or one? And was there some godlike father figure standing over them? Or perhaps a monumental, arched structure like a church window, betokening heaven or some such nonsense? Whenever I got near to seeing the image, my mind seemed to bounce away from it, which made me suspicious. There was something there I didn't want to think about. But I was going to have to now.

  I started with Jason. Why had I been so in love with him? We had nothing in common. He was an ex-public-schoolboy from an upper-class English family, and I was a chapel-going Welsh doctor's daughter. He wasn't remotely interested in philosophy and I couldn't stand antiques—all those awful plaster nymphs and pouting faces. True, he was an incredibly good-looking man, and to start with our sex life had been great, but there'd never been any emotional bond between us at all. Of course, now I understood why: he was bisexual, if not gay, for God's sake. All the time we'd been sleeping together, he'd been sleeping with his best friend. Any other woman would have put two and two together immediately, but not me. Jesus, what a bloody idiot I'd been. Why had I put up with it for so long? He'd treated me like a child, and I'd treated him like …

  My mind bounced off the subject of Jason and on to the decor of my room. I wondered what I could put up on the wall. Perhaps one of Clare's African fabrics? Not really. Perhaps one of Rob's Indian ones? No. Maybe a print or something …

  I forced my mind back to Jason. I'd treated him like … a father, perhaps? No, that was ridiculous. I couldn't think of anyone less like my father than Jason. But now I came to think of it, there was one odd similarity: they were both interested in vintage wines. And there were other, less tangible qualities: their way of organizing everyone around them, making everything seem all right, safe, manageable, even when it wasn't. I let my mind wander back to the way Jason used to take me on his knee and whisper baby words in my ear when I was upset; and how, when I'd told him I was pregnant, it had—for the first time�
��seemed creepy and inappropriate; and I realized what I'd known all along. Jason had been a father figure to me. That was why I'd fallen in love with him. And maybe that was why, since the day he chucked me out, I hadn't given him a moment's thought—until now.

  Next up was Belham. When I thought of him, my hand involuntarily went up to my face, and I covered my eyes. What on earth had possessed me to do something so excruciatingly embarrassing? Yes, I fancied him, but I wasn't madly in love with him. Why had I done it? I pulled my knees up to my chest and turned over to face the wall, shutting my eyes tight, trying to blot out the memory, but I couldn't: I saw myself sitting in the Mock Turtle and stuffing myself with chocolate cake, yapping on about my abortion, and then asking him if he fancied me. I replayed the image over and over again to torture myself until I'd had enough. Then I gave myself a break. OK, maybe it was a stupid thing to do, but I'd been tense. I had my abortion coming up tomorrow—who wouldn't be? And Belham hadn't taken it too badly. In fact, when we'd gone for a walk along the seafront on our way home, I'd got the impression that what I'd done had cleared the air between us, and that from now on our relationship would be closer.

  Which left Rob. I'd hardly thought about Rob since the last time I'd seen him. In fact, now I came to think of it, I'd hardly ever given him any consideration at all. From the start, I'd never taken him seriously, even though he'd made it clear that he was in love with me. I'd kept going back to him—kept going back to his bed at least—but I'd never thought about why. He was possibly the father of my unborn child—probably, given the fact that towards the end of our relationship, Jason and I hardly ever had sex—and yet I still found it difficult to accept him as a potential mate. Perhaps it was to do with the father thing. Perhaps I still needed a father. Perhaps … oh shit, I didn't know what it was. It was all such a mess, and thinking about it didn't seem to be getting me anywhere.

  I turned on to my back and stared up at the ceiling. Rob would be here in a few hours, and I still had no idea what I was going to say to him. I still didn't know whether I wanted the baby or not, and if I did, whether I wanted him to be involved or not. One thing was certain, though: if I was going to go through with this, I'd need a man. I hadn't seen that before, but if I was going to become a mother and carry on doing philosophy, the father, whoever he was, was going to have to help me.

  In the early evening, I went to Brighton station to meet Rob off the train. I'd packed a small suitcase so I could stay at his place that night. My appointment at the clinic was at nine the next morning, and it would be easier to get there from Rob's than from campus. Of course, depending on what happened, I might go back to my room on campus and spend the night on my own, but at least I'd have my suitcase packed and ready for the morning.

  I hadn't been quite sure what to take. The pink and blue nightdress seemed appropriate for an overnight stay in hospital, so I'd packed that, with some clean pants and socks, a towel, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. I'd had a letter from the clinic telling me to bring a pack of sanitary towels, so I'd bought some down at the campus shop and packed them as well. I'd also put in the signed forms from the health center that Doctor Morgan had sent back to me. And nestling in a small zipped pocket on the side of the case was the milk-teeth box that Bear had given me. I'd put it in at the last minute, just for luck.

  Before I left, I called in on Clare. She was in her room, but there was a guy with her, which surprised me. He was one of those tweed-jacketed, long-haired scientists with glasses that usually never ventured out of the B block, but underneath it all, you could see he wasn't bad looking. When I knocked on the door, she asked me in, but I felt it best to decline.

  “Actually, I'm just on my way out,” I said, standing at the door. “I'm in a bit of a rush. I was just coming in to say good-bye.”

  “Oh,” Clare said. “Where are you going?”

  “Umm,” I said. “Well, you know …”

  “Is it …?” she said, lowering her voice.

  “Yes,” I said. “I'll be back tomorrow.”

  Clare glanced back at the guy. “I'm just going to help Susannah down with her case,” she said, edging out into the corridor.

  He smiled at me and nodded, so I smiled and nodded back.

  The case was small, but Clare took it out of my hand and walked down the stairs with me.

  “Will you be all right?” she said as we went. “Is anyone going to take you in?”

  “I don't know, I'm meeting Rob tonight. It depends how it goes.”

  “Well, phone me if you need anything, I'll be here when you get back.”

  “Thanks, I'll come by and let you know how it went.”

  I didn't say I still didn't know what I was going to do.

  “By the way,” she said. “I found out about the elephants.”

  For a moment, I didn't know what she was talking about.

  “They do pair up for mating,” she went on. “And they stay together for a while. But then the father goes back into the herd and the other females help the mother bring up the calf. And later, the mother may go on to become the matriarch of the herd …”

  “Right,” I said, cutting her off. I didn't want to think too hard about all that just now. “Thanks. Who's the guy, by the way?”

  “Tom,” she said. “He's a botanist. He's thinking of coming out to Kenya with me in the summer.”

  “So you got the job?”

  “Don't know yet, but we'll probably go out there and get some kind of work, anyway.”

  “Is he … Are you …?” I asked.

  “Sort of, umm I … Umm I …”

  “Sorry,” I said, butting in. “None of my business.” I wished I hadn't asked.

  We stopped at the door of the lobby and she handed me the case.

  “Good luck,” she said, opening the door.

  “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

  I stepped through the door and out onto the road.

  Tomorrow. By then it would all be over and I'd have made my decision, one way or the other.

  chapter 27

  I GOT TO BRIGHTON STATION just as the London train was coming into the platform. A lot of people got off the train at once, and at first I couldn't see Rob. I started panicking, remembering how annoyed he'd sounded on the phone, and thinking how stupid I'd been not to call him before. It would serve me right if he didn't turn up now that I really wanted him here. But just as I was beginning to give up hope, I spotted him, walking along at the back of the crowd, hunched forward with a rucksack on his back, wearing his big woollen sweater with the unraveling sleeves. His face had a cold, pinched look, but when he saw me he broke into an involuntary grin, then resumed his serious expression again.

  “Hi,” he said when he came up to me. “How's it going?”

  I reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

  “That's OK,” he said, but he didn't kiss me back.

  We walked down the platform together and I wondered whether to take his arm, but decided against it.

  “Where are we going?” he said, indicating my overnight bag.

  “To yours?” I said. “Or we could go back to my room on campus if you like.”

  He stopped walking abruptly and turned to face me.

  “Look,” he said. “Can you just explain what's going on now? I've had just about enough of all this. Why have you dragged me down here?”

  “OK,” I said, my anger rising too. “I didn't want to tell you till we got somewhere private, but since you ask, I'm pregnant.”

  He looked at me, puzzled.

  “Pregnant, Rob,” I repeated. “I'm going to have a baby.”

  He took a sharp breath in.

  “And I'm going in for an abortion tomorrow, unless I … unless we … decide not to,” I went on.

  Rob gazed at me uncomprehendingly “What …” he said. “Why …”

  “I'm sorry,” I said. “I should have got in touch before.”

  Rob said nothing, so I started walking again a
nd he fell into step beside me. When we got out of the station, he went straight over to the taxi rank, pushed me into a taxi, went round to the back to put our bags in the boot, then got in beside me. When the taxi driver asked where we were going, he told him in a clipped voice that warned off further conversation, and we sat in silence for the rest of the ride. He didn't even look at me. When we got to the house, he jumped out of the taxi to get the bags and pay the driver, still without a word to me, then handed me my bag and got out his key. He ushered me through the door into the hall and straight up the stairs to his room, where he took my bag and threw it onto the bed. Then he went over to the bedroom door and shut it with a bang.

  When he turned back to me, he was shaking with rage. “What the fuck do you mean by this?”

  He came towards me and I suddenly felt afraid. I shouldn't have contacted him; I realized I didn't know him very well, and that I had no idea how he'd take the news. He didn't wait for a reply and I didn't try to give one.

  “You've been pregnant all this time without telling me?” His voice was starting to rise. I hoped his flatmates wouldn't hear.

  “How could you? You've been fucking me about, giving me this and that excuse, telling me a pack of lies …”

  “I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't know …”

  He wasn't listening. 'And now you've gone and fixed up an abortion without telling me either? You knew all along, and you were giving me the runaround.” He was furious now. “It's my child too, you know, Susannah.”

  “But that's the thing …” I said. “I don't know if …”

  “Oh, great,” he said. “You don't even know if it's mine. Well, I knew you were screwing your boyfriend as well as me, so that's no surprise. What's happened then, has he given you the push? So you've come to me as a last resort?”

  “No,” I said, “it's not like that.” But I knew it was. I'd gone to Jason first, and then even Belham, and now it was down to him. He'd been last on my list.

  “At least you could have had the decency to let me know.” He walked over to the window and stared out, his back to me. “I'd have thought that was just common courtesy.”