Linda stared for a moment out of the open window. In the silence, they heard the sound of a cricket bat hitting a ball in a neighbouring garden.
‘Look the sun’s still shining. I’ve really spoilt this evening for you, haven’t I?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Janet replied. ‘It’ll do you good to talk.’
‘Barry was furious about the miscarriage. And I felt such a failure. I’d got used to the idea and I’d started to look forward to it. I never realised I’d be so disappointed - and so guilty too. It felt like some sort of punishment. I’m sure Caroline would feel the same way if she got rid of her baby. You won’t let her, will you?’
Linda listened while Janet explained their plans. All the while, her hands functioned as if they had a life of their own, placing the food in decorative patterns and cutting a pizza into neat slices.
‘Thank goodness she’s got you, Janet - both of you. You’re so understanding. That’s why I wanted to tell you about the tests.’
‘Tests?’
‘Yes. I got a bit desperate recently and I arranged …’
A shout came from the living room. ‘Well, are we going to eat, or aren’t we?’
‘Oh dear. I’ll tell you about it a bit later. Let’s take the stuff in and join them.’
Armed with the plates of food, the two women returned to the living room.
Glancing at Linda’s flushed face, Barry said, ‘What’s up with you? Waterworks again?’
Linda bit her lip, and turned away, and the family started to help themselves to snacks from the table. Despite Barry’s criticisms, the quiche and pizza were attractively presented, set against the greens and reds of the salads, and the aroma of the freshly baked mushroom vol-au-vents was enticing. Janet, who had not eaten much lunch, took a portion of everything and tucked in with enthusiasm.
‘Have you got any left over meat in the fridge?’ asked Barry, ‘I feel like a cold beef sandwich.’
‘For heaven’s sake sit down,’ Frank boomed out. ‘We came here to talk to you both, not to hear you carping about what’s on the menu.’ He added, turning to Linda with a smile, ‘It’s all delicious, Lindy - a really nice spread.’
Janet saw that Barry’s face had taken on a dull flush. He was still susceptible to a rebuke from his older brother. To cover his embarrassment, he turned to Linda and said, ‘Have you heard what these two suckers have decided to do? Frank’s just been telling me. You know what I’d do if it were left to me. I’d tell her where to go - and take her little bundle of joy with her.’
Janet said nothing. She couldn’t see the point. She wondered if Barry had made a study of being obnoxious. She let Frank speak on behalf of both of them, and he said more gently than was perhaps justified, ‘I know you don’t really mean that, Barry. I’m sure if you were in our situation you’d do what you could to help.’
Barry put down the mushroom vol-au-vent he was holding and, with a sideways glance at Linda, said, ‘In your situation? Parents of three strapping children. Fertility streaming out of every pore. Well, since it seems that either I’m firing blanks, or Madam’s as barren as the Gobi Desert, we’re not likely to find out, are we?’
For the second time, Linda got up. She turned to Frank. Through clenched teeth she told him, ‘Help yourself to anything you want, Frank. There’s fruit salad and ice-cream in the fridge. Barry will show you where it is. I’m going for a walk.’
‘I’ll come too,’ said Janet, and she gave Frank a pointed look that meant - he’s your brother - give him a good talking-to.
‘The worm’s turned,’ muttered Barry.
‘Whatever’s got into you?’ Frank said, flicking off the TV, as the women went out of the door. ‘Why are you treating Linda like dirt? What’s happened between you two?’
‘What’s happened? I’ll tell you what’s happened - she’s no better than that sister of ours.’
Frank looked at his brother blankly. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I mean she’s no good. She trapped me into a shot-gun marriage - has a miscarriage and now she can’t get pregnant. I do the dutiful thing - go for tests and what do they tell me? - I’m sub-fertile - so how come she was pregnant in the first place?’
For a moment there was silence. Frank lifted his glass and swallowed a mouthful of beer.
‘That’s a blow, Barry.’ He paused. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without our kids.’
A faint shout of ‘Howzat?’ came from the cricket match in the garden next door. It took Frank back to a time when family life seemed uncomplicated.
‘Do you remember when Dad taught us to play cricket?’ he said.
Barry smiled slightly. ‘We used to play in the garden, didn’t we? And at the seaside. Even Mum was a fair bat.’
‘They were good days,’ nodded Frank.
‘She was always too busy after Julie came,’ said Barry, his smile fading.
‘Isn’t there some treatment they can give you?’ Frank said, twisting his glass.
‘Treatment. I’m not even sure I want to go on with the marriage.’
Frank was incredulous. ‘Barry, you can’t be serious. You know full well that Linda’s mad about you. She wouldn’t have put up with you otherwise. You’ve been happy, haven’t you?’
Barry hesitated, ‘I suppose so. But these tests …’
‘If Linda said it was your child, then it was! Sub-fertile doesn’t mean infertile - maybe you weren’t drinking so much then, maybe you were more relaxed - who knows? Of course it was yours. Stop being a bloody fool.’
‘Look,’ said Barry, suddenly angry, ‘It’s easy for you to talk. Everything always comes out right for you. You were always the blue-eyed boy. I was second best. Last in line when Julie came along.’ He put his empty plate back on the coffee table. ‘Then you have the perfect marriage and three kids into the bargain.’
‘We’re not in competition,’ said Frank. ‘You’re raking all these things up from the past. But it’s the present that’s rankling, isn’t it?’
‘You’re right it is!’ said Barry and put his hands to his face. ‘What sort of a man am I if I can’t produce a child?’
Frank, moved by this rare moment of vulnerability, rested a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.
‘You’ve got a problem, Barry. Forget the tough, macho image. Share it with Linda. Don’t push her out. Maybe treatment will help - you and Linda almost had a child. It’ll happen again.’
He paused, then the words slipped out, ‘Don’t think that everything’s always rosy for Janet and me - it’s been damn hard work providing the financial back-up for the perfect wife and mother.’
Barry’s eyes widened in surprise.
‘What’s more - Janet’s a lovely girl - don’t get me wrong, but sometimes her conversation is rather domestic. I had hoped that she might develop other interests, widen her horizons. But now...’ He sighed, before continuing.
‘And this latest little package - do you really think I want to go through the nappies and the disturbed nights again? I don’t. I’m getting too old for that sort of thing. But I’ve no option - that’s what Janet and Caroline want. I’ve got to support them.’
He put his beer down abruptly, and looked out of the window, as the clang of the gate announced the return of the two women. Turning back to Barry, he said, ‘Why don’t you try it?’
Janet and Linda came in, their expressions nervous, as if they didn’t know quite what to expect. Linda’s face was white and tear-stained.
Barry got up and put an awkward arm around her.
‘All right, pet?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.’
‘How about you two girls sitting down while I make some coffee?’
‘I don’t think we’ll stay for coffee, thanks, Barry,’ said Janet, sensing a change in the atmosphere and feeling that, as a social occasion, the evening could be written off.
They walked down the path, turning just once to wave to their in-laws, and got into the car.
>
‘Oh Frank,’ said Janet, buckling up her seat belt, ‘Thank goodness you’re not like Barry. Fancy having a marriage like that. I’m so lucky to have you - and the kids.’
Frank smiled his slow smile.
‘You know what,’ she added, ‘I know what’s happened to Caroline is dreadful. And I’m ashamed to say it, but now we’ve worked it out, I really feel happy.’
Frank released the hand-brake and let in the clutch. The Escort moved forward.
‘I’m really looking forward to it. It’s going to be wonderful having a little one in the house again, isn’t it?’
He pushed the gear lever into second and patted her hand.
‘Absolutely wonderful, darling.’
Chapter 4: 1001 Nights
Tuesday Morning & Evening
The reconciliation had been rather a subdued affair. Linda slept badly and rose early. When she left for work, her eyes were still red and her face strained. She arrived twenty minutes before the office opened, and took refuge in the ladies’ room.
The receptionist, Helena Fresneau, a smart, blonde woman in her forties, was stationed at the mirror. Linda tried to avoid catching Helena’s eyes, but the reflection smiled at Linda and greeted her, before returning to her make-up. Linda mumbled a reply and, for a moment, she forgot her misery and wondered what it would be like to be as confident as Helena. She looked at Helena’s cream linen suit with a mixture of envy and admiration. It was stylish, but then, she was always stylish in a way that Linda could never aspire to. You could tell her clothes were expensive - how could she possibly afford something like that on an office worker’s salary? But then people said she had a relationship with one of the directors. Could that be true?
As if aware of the thoughts and glances directed at her, Helena turned and regarded Linda with an astute expression that seemed to take in everything.
‘You’re not yourself, are you? What’s up?’
‘It’s nothing. I’m fine.’
Linda looked at her face in the glass, blotchy patches showing through this morning’s hurried application of make-up, then sent a swift glance at Helena. A sympathetic grin met her eyes.
‘Now come on. Who are you trying to kid? You’ve been crying, haven’t you?’
‘It was just a tiff with Barry - my husband,’ said Linda hesitantly.
‘You don’t want to let them push you about,’ said Helena in a surprising almost Cockney accent, which didn’t sound at all like her normal reception and telephone voice. ‘If he’s giving you a hard time, just learn to keep him under your thumb. How long have you been married?
‘Nearly seven years,’ replied Linda.
The blonde’s eyebrows lifted. ‘My goodness, you were barely out of the cradle, weren’t you?
Linda flushed.
‘I was twenty, she said, her voice sounding defensive even to herself.
‘Whatever made you rush into marriage? There’s more to life than that, surely.’
‘I was pregnant,’ replied Linda.
‘Does that matter to anyone now?’
‘Well it mattered to my Dad. He didn’t give Barry a lot of choice.’
‘So you were two young innocents playing with fire, and you got your fingers burnt?’ Helena said, opening her eyes wide to touch up her mascara.
‘Well, actually, Barry was thirty. He - he thought I understood about taking precautions,’ Linda said, trying to understate Barry’s role in her downfall.
‘So he got you in the club, and he’s been giving you a hard time ever since,’ summed up Helena.
‘No - no it’s not like that - we’ve been happy.’
‘You don’t have to lie to me; I know. Men are swines.’
‘No, really,’ protested Linda, ‘it’s just that we had some fertility tests recently - we lost that baby - you see - and Barry was disappointed that I couldn’t get pregnant again.’
‘So you’re spending all your time taking your temperature and working out the right time of the month. No wonder he’s pissed off with you.’
‘But then we found that he was the one with the problem. And it’s been dreadful ever since.’
‘I can imagine,’ Helena interrupted. ‘And you know what. Next thing, he’ll go looking for some other nice, naïve, young girl to prove what a man he is.’ She carefully applied her lipstick with a brush. ‘Maybe you should find yourself a boyfriend.’
‘I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to,’ said Linda, shocked.
‘Well, he’s taking you for granted. I’ll bet he’s the only man you’ve ever had. He thinks he can treat you like a worm and you’ll put up with it.’ She took out a handbag spray and aimed it in the general direction of her neck and her wrists. The scent drifted through the air, making Linda think of exotic evenings in Mediterranean lands. ‘You’ve got to use a bit of psychology, Linda. Keep him interested. Make him jealous. You’ll have him in the palm of your hand in no time.’
‘I wouldn’t know how to,’ mumbled Linda.
‘Get a life. Go out with friends. Go to the cinema. He probably won’t believe that’s what you’re doing. They never do when you’re telling the truth,’ said the blonde. ‘Then if he thinks someone else fancies you, he’ll wonder what he’s missing.’
‘But where would I go? All my friends are married. And I have to cook in the evenings,’ Linda protested.
‘You really do lead a sheltered life, don’t you?’ said Helena, shaking her head. ‘You can’t run your life round Barry’s tea.’
She turned again to the mirror and flicked one or two blonde curls with a small comb.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ she exclaimed, suddenly inspired. ‘Come and join me for a coffee and a sandwich tonight.’ She took an envelope from her bag and scribbled down her address. ‘Do you know where this is? It’s only a couple of streets from here.’
‘I’m not sure if I should,’ said Linda, aware, even as she said it, that she would not be able to resist the invitation.
That evening, when Barry arrived home and sat himself in an armchair with a beer, she walked in with a ham salad and a trifle on a tray, and placed it in front of him.
‘I’m going out to meet a friend,’ she told him, to his astonishment. ‘I won’t be back till late.’
Glancing around the room to check that everything had been left tidy, she spotted the bottle of red wine on the sideboard where she had placed it the previous day. She hesitated, wondering if it would be ungrateful to dispense with Janet and Frank’s gift. But something had changed. A new Linda was shedding some of the inhibitions of the old.
‘I’ll take this with me,’ she said to Barry, as she departed.
She was used to the tube journey which she took every morning to work. Now, instead of strap hanging commuters, it was filled with young people going out for the evening. Most of them seemed to be dressed in the conventional uniform of baggy jeans, in spite of the warm weather. Looking at herself with new eyes, Linda felt rather prim and old fashioned in her Laura Ashley dress.
Once she had arrived, it didn’t take long to find Helena’s address. When she saw the luxurious apartment block in which Helena lived, she almost turned and ran in the opposite direction. But her curiosity got the better of her. She went past the uniformed commissionaire, announced her presence through a speaker and took the lift to the second floor.
Helena was waiting for her at the door. She wore some well tailored white trousers, which enhanced her slim figure, and a cashmere sweater. But without make-up it was possible to see the lines around her eyes that had not been so obvious before. Whereas, at her post in reception she could pass for thirty, now she looked nearer to her actual age.
The room was welcoming, and decorated with taste. Heavy brocade curtains framed the window, through which the late sunshine now streamed. A photograph of a boy in his late teens sat in pride of place on a mahogany bureau.
‘I’ve brought some wine,’ said Linda feeling awkward. She handed Helena the bottle.
�
��That was a nice thought,’ smiled the hostess. ‘I won’t open it just now. Sit yourself down, Linda, and make yourself comfortable. I’ve poured us a martini - do you like martini?’
‘Mm,’ Linda replied. She sank back onto the cushions of the leather sofa and sipped the drink. It was a little dry for her, and well laced with gin, but after a few mouthfuls she felt false courage beginning to seep into her bloodstream.
Helena had laid out a buffet of sandwiches and other finger food. Linda picked up a delicately-made triangular sandwich and popped it into her mouth.
‘Ooh, smoked salmon, lovely. How comfortable it is here.’
‘I’m good at making other people comfortable, Linda,’ said the older woman. ‘You could say that’s one of my few talents. That and passable looks. And they’re going a bit now, so I have to make sure I don’t lose my other talents. I wouldn’t have my flat or my job if I didn’t keep Lawrence happy and then I wouldn’t be able to keep my boy at college either.’
‘Your boy?’ stammered Linda.
‘Yes, that’s his picture. I also got knocked up when I was in my twenties. That bastard disappeared like greased lightning when I told him I was in the club. I tried a bottle of gin and a hot bath and all that. Not a very nice experience - I really prefer gin as a short drink. None of it worked and I had no spare cash. So I just muddled through. I swore I’d never let a man get the upper hand again. Though Lawrence is a kind bloke.’
‘Yes, he seems very nice,’ Linda said, then blushed at her slip, for she was not sure she was supposed to know the identity of Helena’s lover.
But Helena gave a good-natured chuckle. ‘Everyone knows, don’t they, except poor Gwen. That sad sack of a wife. Yes, he’s a good bloke, but I don’t take things for granted. He never quite knows what’s coming next, whether it’s food, wine, sex or anything.’
Linda’s mouth dropped open a little.
‘I keep him interested and I keep him coming back for more. Just like that sheikh’s wife in the Arabian nights. A different story every night. I’m nothing more than a high class pro really. Except that I can’t help loving the old sod too, so I hope I can keep the magic going.’ A shadow crossed her face for a moment then she grinned. ‘Come and have a look at the Boudoir.’
A Bottle of Plonk Page 4
