by Fay Weldon
‘I certainly haven’t had an affair with Ernie, Marion,’ said Annette, ‘nor would I ever. I’m happily married to Spicer.’
‘Spicer comes and talks to me sometimes, Annette.’
‘Does he?’ asked Annette. ‘What do you mean, talks?’
‘Just talk, Annette. He knows I get lonely and the office is just round the corner from us. And Ernie is away so often, off with all his lady authors under forty for all I know, and Spicer and you have your troubles, and he needs to talk about them. Everyone has to have someone to talk to. But I do get kind of worried sometimes in case you’d mind. Women should stick together. I feel better, already. There’s nothing in it. I love Lucifette Fallen. What a brilliant title. Ernie gave me a proof copy to read. Is it really about your family life? Your mother and father? It must have been really gruelling. Poor you. I’m always sorry for the children in this kind of thing.’
‘Aren’t we all,’ said Annette.
‘I gave the book to this friend of mine,’ said Marion. ‘An astrologer, to see what she thought of it. She did this review for New Astrology. I’ll send it on to you.’
‘Dr Rhea Marks?’
‘Yes. How did you know? God, she’s brilliant. She has proper medical qualifications along with everything else.’
‘And then the Oprah Winfrey Show picked it up,’ said Annette.
‘Did they? That’s wonderful!’ said Marion. ‘So you’re going to be a TV star! No wonder we’re all so jealous. Things just fall into your lap.’
‘Marion, it was through you that Spicer got to see Dr Marks?’
‘It was me who recommended her, yes,’ said Marion.
‘Does Spicer still come round to talk to you, Marion?’ asked Annette.
‘Not since he started seeing Dr Marks. I rather wish I hadn’t mentioned her,’ said Marion.
‘So now you’re doing the cards and wishing me a road accident,’ said Annette.
‘How could you say anything so awful, Annette?’ said Marion. ‘It isn’t like that at all. It was only the once with Spicer; after that it was just talk: I’ve just felt so guilty: it will never happen again, I promise. I love Ernie with all my heart; I just wish he had more soul, he was open, you know? And I’m sure Spicer loves you, Annette. He kept saying so. He said you had sexual problems. It was hard for him. I just wanted to help. It’ll never happen again.’
‘Okay, Marion, okay,’ said Annette. ‘What’s past is past. Spicer and I are starting again; we’ve all been through a bad patch. Thank you for calling. Really.’
‘Only do be careful,’ said Marion, ‘stepping into the road. Those cards were really dreadful. And don’t be angry with me, Annette. I can’t bear it.’
Annette banged down the phone.
‘On our sides is nice, really nice,’ said Spicer. ‘Worth being pregnant for. Why didn’t we do this before, you missionary you. But turn over on your face now. That’s right. I didn’t use vaseline the other night; I should have. Perhaps I was angry. Yes, perhaps I was. I wanted to hurt. I don’t know. I love you. I’ve given up everything for you, Annette. When I say I love you your insides do such wonderful things. Bring your knees further up now, so I can move up easily from there to here; that’s it: what an easy slippage it is, meant by the Maker. You’re not comfy, I can tell. If I take the pillow from under your face and put it below your breasts above your bump. Keep your head on the side so you can breathe—there, that’s glorious for me—is it comfy for you?’
‘Yes, Spicer. You seem to know such a lot about doing it like this. Is this what Marion taught you? Spicer, please don’t go! I only asked—I thought you’d find it exciting, thinking of her as if she were here too. Isn’t this how your mind works? Where are you going? Don’t leave me like this, now. It’s so humiliating. Spicer? It’s not even as if you can’t. You can but you won’t. Spicer?’
‘This is appalling,’ said Gilda.
‘After that Spicer just went to the spare room. I cried all night. I heard him leave at about six in the morning.’
‘You can’t go on like this,’ said Gilda. ‘You’ll have to go to your mother’s.’
‘That’s defeat,’ said Annette. ‘That’s going back to where you were before you began. It’s just so up and down with Spicer and me at the moment.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Gilda. ‘But drifting downwards all the time. The major drift is to rock bottom, Annette.’
‘I don’t want to think that,’ said Annette. ‘Don’t say it. It isn’t true. Yesterday we all went to a show. The kids loved it. So did I. Spicer pretended to, for our sakes. We were just a normal, happy family, on an outing. For twelve whole hours I was so happy, Gilda. I was so confident. Not even Marion calling and saying what she did could really shake me.’
‘Spicer and Marion! I still can’t believe it.’
‘It was only the once,’ said Annette.
‘Oh yes?’
‘Spicer does end up in bed sometimes with other women if he’s had too much to drink or taken too much coke,’ said Annette. ‘I don’t like it but I have to accept it: it doesn’t mean anything: it’s me he loves.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Gilda.
‘It’s because I’m so bad at sex,’ said Annette. ‘It’s a kind of disability. You can’t blame Spicer. Sex just doesn’t come naturally to me, the way it does to other women. I say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing at the wrong moment and spoil everything. You don’t mind anything Steve does to you, do you?’
‘Steve isn’t Spicer. Steve wants me to be happy,’ said Gilda. ‘He doesn’t care what I do or say or when. It makes no difference. And he’s given in about Leboyer.’
‘I’m so glad,’ said Annette. ‘I’m dreadful. All I do is talk about myself. That’s another thing Spicer has to put up with. I’m so self-centred.’
‘I’d talk about myself if I were you,’ said Gilda.
‘I can’t let go in bed, I expect that’s the trouble,’ said Annette. ‘I can’t stop thinking. I keep wondering if the cat’s been put out or what’s for breakfast.’
‘Then perhaps it’s Spicer who isn’t very good at it.’
‘No, it’s me,’ said Annette. ‘I can’t blame Spicer. Sex makes my mind active. All the energy flies into my head. I hardly ever have orgasms. There, I’ve told you. I’m so upset, Gilda.’
‘I know,’ said Gilda. ‘I can tell.’
‘I was trying to play it Spicer’s way,’ wept Annette. ‘Or I wouldn’t have even mentioned Marion. How was I to know he’d react like that? Only six words: “Is this what Marion taught you?” and your whole life falls to pieces.’
‘I reckon Spicer’s playing games with you, Annette,’ said Gilda. ‘He’s nice for a bit just in order to be nasty. He does it on purpose. He reads you. He presses a button. He knows how you’ll react and he does it deliberately.’
‘But why should he, Gilda?’ asked Annette.
‘Because he’s a sadist,’ said Gilda. ‘It’s how he gets his kicks. And you’re a masochist. Or you wouldn’t put up with it. As for Marion, she’s perfectly capable of making the whole thing up just to upset you.’
‘Why should she do that?’ asked Annette.
‘I don’t know, Annette,’ said Gilda. ‘Perhaps Marion’s found out about you and Ernie and is getting her own back.’
‘Oh God,’ said Annette.
‘There! Caught you!’ said Gilda. ‘I knew I was right about you and Ernie. Why did you deny it in the first place? I’m your friend. It was that time Spicer was at the Bordeaux Wine Feste, wasn’t it? Did you get herpes?’
‘No, I did not. That’s just a disgusting rumour. Industrial espionage probably, put about by other publishers who hate him making money and not being a gentleman. Please, please, keep it to yourself, Gilda. So Spicer could have thought it was just me being paranoid again, by mentioning Marion? That’s why he acted the way he did?’
‘It’s perfectly possible, but how would I know?’
‘Poor Spicer,’ sai
d Annette.
‘I wouldn’t go as far as that, Annette. Just divorce the bastard.’
‘But I love him.’
‘I have to go now,’ said Gilda. ‘Steve’s got the engine running. He sends his love, by the way. Bye, Annette. Look after yourself. Call me tomorrow. I worry about you.’
‘Bye, Gilda. Thanks.’
‘Spicer,’ said Annette.
‘Wendy,’ said Spicer to his secretary, but so that Annette could hear, ‘I did ask you not to put calls through to the office. It’s too bad. Annette, I’m really very busy. Please, please just leave me alone for once.’
‘But Spicer, I have to talk.’
‘Annette,’ said Spicer, ‘I am trying to keep this business afloat. We are in a recession. Try to help, not hinder.’
‘I can’t bear it when you leave in the morning without saying goodbye.’
‘Why don’t you go and stay with your mother for a while?’
‘You know I mentioned Marion last night,’ said Annette, ‘and it seemed to upset you so much?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Annette,’ said Spicer.
‘It’s just that Marion rang me up—’
‘For God’s sake,’ said Spicer. ‘I’m so busy, and here comes the hysteria again. Obsessive sexual jealousy. I’ll be late tonight.’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t crowd me, Annette,’ said Spicer. ‘As it happens, I’m seeing Dr Rhea after work. She found time for me. I wish I didn’t have to see her. But since you refuse to see Dr Herman, I have no choice: the tensions get too great: I can’t cope with you without help.’
‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t see Dr Herman,’ said Annette. ‘I just wanted to wait until after the baby was born.’
‘For all I know you’ve invented this baby,’ said Spicer. ‘It’s a hysterical pregnancy which gives you an excuse and an outlet for your hostility to men and your destructiveness towards yourself.’
‘But the baby showed up on the scan, Spicer,’ said Annette. ‘How can it be a hysterical pregnancy? Perhaps you didn’t want it to be a girl, perhaps that’s it?’
‘Annette,’ said Spicer, ‘I am way beyond worrying about this baby’s gender, I just worry for all our sanity. You ought to think seriously about going to stay with your mother.’
‘How could I? What about the children?’
‘Jason and Susan? They’re hardly children any more,’ said Spicer. ‘They’ve had to grow up too fast. I can get someone to come in a couple of hours a day after school easily enough, to fill in the time before I get back. They’re not accustomed to much mothering, God knows. The Pizza & Video generation. Prime candidates. Now this next one turns up for another round of punishment.’
‘Oh, Spicer—’ said Annette.
‘What?’
‘You sound so cold,’ said Annette, ‘and hateful.’
‘Oh Annette,’ said Spicer, ‘you do so little to warm me up, and the hate flows from you, not from me. Is this all for Wendy’s benefit?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Because I have a new telephone system, and from now on calls on this number come over the speaker in Wendy’s room and are recorded.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you have a private number?’
‘I don’t think I can trust you with it, Annette,’ said Spicer. ‘Not with you in the mood you are.’
‘Hello, child,’ said Annette’s mother Judy.
‘Why hello, Mum,’ said Annette. ‘How are things with you?’
‘Just fine, sweetheart,’ said Judy. ‘And you?’
‘Just fine, Mum,’ said Annette.
‘Now don’t say that, Annette,’ said Judy. ‘I know they’re not because dear Spicer rang and he said things were definitely not right with you. He is so concerned. I’d worry much less about you if you would only tell me what was really going on, instead of pretending everything’s okay when it isn’t.’
‘What was Spicer concerned about?’
‘Don’t sound like that, Annette,’ said Judy. ‘You’re lucky to have a husband who cares. So many don’t. Spicer asked me to talk to you: apparently he’s having some kind of therapy and you’ve developed an obsessional aversion to whoever it is he goes to see. Is this so?’
‘You could see it like that,’ said Annette.
‘Because it’s not very helpful of you, dear,’ said Judy. ‘Not that I’m in favour of shrinks, they do encourage introspection so, but if Spicer wants to be in the swing of things I suppose he should be allowed. I don’t see why you should object. It only causes trouble.’
‘It’s all a bit complicated, Mum,’ said Annette.
‘But you’re all right? In yourself?’
‘Yes of course,’ said Annette.
‘Because Spicer seemed to think you wanted to come and stay with me and Dad for a while.’
‘It might be a little difficult to arrange,’ said Annette.
‘That’s what I told Spicer,’ said Judy. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea at all; you can’t just leave Susan and Jason on their own, and you need to be near the hospital.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Annette.
‘I don’t really know what Spicer was thinking of, suggesting it,’ said Judy. ‘Men are so impractical. They seem to think women just have to wave a wand and it’s done. Your father and I lead very quiet lives; you know how he likes his routine. I must warn you, Annette, it is simply not a good idea for a wife to leave a husband alone if she can help it. Spicer’s bound to get into trouble. He is a very sexy man.’
‘Yes, he is, Mum,’ said Annette. ‘You’re quite right.’
‘And a good man is hard to find,’ said Judy. ‘Annette—’
‘Yes, Mum?’
‘Did Spicer actually get round to putting the house in your joint names, dear?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Annette. ‘I’d have known, wouldn’t I? I’d have had to have signed something?’
‘Because he was going to do that as security for the loan your father gave him,’ said Judy. ‘This whole family is so vague and trusting. And Spicer hasn’t made any repayments lately and your father doesn’t like to press him, it’s so un-family, and he rather wondered if you’d bring the matter up with Spicer. You married him after all, and it was because of you your father made the loan, and though the whole world seems to rejoice when interest rates go down, I’m sure your father and I don’t. It’s what we live off. And a whole chunk of capital is tied up in Spicer’s business.’
‘I’m sure it’s all okay, Mum,’ said Annette. ‘Spicer knows what he’s doing.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ said Judy. ‘Men do tend to. Annette, I don’t like saying this, but whatever you do, don’t leave the matrimonial home.’
‘Why would I want to do a thing like that?’ asked Annette.
‘Because I feel uneasy, Annette,’ said Judy. ‘Why does Spicer want you out of the way? Has he found someone else? Is that what the matter is? Men do get very odd when their wives are pregnant.’
‘Don’t ill-wish me, Mother,’ said Annette.
‘That’s a perfectly horrible thing to say, Annette,’ said her mother.
‘Please don’t you get upset, Mum,’ said Annette. ‘It didn’t mean anything. I was joking.’
‘I lie awake worrying about you, and all I get in return is this kind of insult. Of course I’m not ill-wishing you. How can you think such a thing?’
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ said Annette. Her headache had returned.
‘Olive Green speaking. How can I help you?’
‘I’d like to make an appointment to see Dr Solstice, please,’ asked Annette, on the phone to the Health Centre.
‘Who’s speaking?’
‘Mrs Horrocks. Annette Horrocks.’
‘In future,’ said the receptionist, ‘please try and contact the appointment desk before nine A.M.’
‘I thought that was just for house calls,’ said Annette.
‘Not any m
ore,’ said Olive Green. ‘By nine A.M. we’ve usually filled our books for the day. We run a busy and efficient service here, Mrs Horrocks.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Annette. ‘I just need to come in and see Dr Solstice now.’
‘Now? Dr Solstice is fully booked until next Friday afternoon. He’s very busy.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ said Annette.
‘There is no need to be abusive,’ said Olive Green.
‘I wasn’t,’ said Annette. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘According to our computer records you’ve missed three Clinic appointments without explanation,’ said Olive Green. ‘So I am unable to fix an appointment anyway, unless you send a formal letter of request.’
‘That’s insane,’ said Annette.
‘I don’t like your attitude, Mrs Horrocks,’ said Olive Green, ‘and I don’t make the rules. But what’s the point of making appointments for you if you don’t mean to keep them?’
‘I don’t want to get into an argument with you,’ said Annette, ‘and I’m sorry I’ve upset you somehow, but I’m seven months pregnant and I don’t think I’m very well and I need to see someone today.’
‘If it’s an emergency,’ said the receptionist, ‘we suggest you go to Casualty at the Royal Free hospital. Otherwise your best plan is to attend tomorrow’s Clinic. You can’t not turn up there and then demand special attention from the doctor just on a whim.’
‘I’m not demanding,’ said Annette. ‘It’s not a whim. I just need to see a doctor, for fuck’s sake.’
‘Please try not to be so aggressive,’ said Olive Green.
‘Why? Will it go on my notes?’ asked Annette.
‘It already has,’ said Olive Green. ‘Swearing always does. We have to put up with a lot, but we don’t have to put up with this.’ And she put the phone down.
‘It’s been a dreadful day, Gilda. Spicer was so horrible on the phone I could have died; my mother ill-wished me and when I tried to get an appointment with the doctor it just ended up with me having a row with this person on the appointment desk.’
‘That will be Olive Green,’ said Gilda. ‘She’s always like that. You have to creep and crawl and beg for help before she relents and lets you see someone. Then she’s the one dispensing charity: it’s the only way she has of being kind. Why do you want to see a doctor?’
