Rosalind looked embarrassed; a blush crept over her face. ‘He . . . well, he can’t get it up any more, so he blames me. Says he can with other women so …’ she shrugged sadly, biting her lip against tears.
‘That is nonsense,’ Lorna touched her restless hands as they picked savagely at the bread. ‘It is a well-known mechanical failure that can occur in any man, especially older ones. Stephen was the same with me…’
‘And Adrian with me, love. Short circuit doesn’t always fire, so they blame us. You know that cruel joke about doctors telling heart patients only to make love with their wives as anything more exciting will kill them!’ Gloria laughed hoarsely. ‘So Ivan is flaunting other women in front of you to punish you because he is suffering from reptile, no,’ she giggled, ‘I mean erectile dysfunction.’
Rosalind giggled through her tears. ‘Reptile dysfunction – that’s a classic, it will make me laugh next time it happens. I’ll think of crocodiles.’
‘I’ve tried to talk to Adrian about it, telling him it’s the drink that does it – and truthfully,’ Gloria glanced at the two of them, ‘ I do feel it’s a bit much to have to give up on sex myself at my age.’
‘So do I,’ Rosalind said, ‘and we don’t go rushing off with younger, randy men, but perhaps we should. I don’t feel I’m wanted by my own husband any more and it makes me feel as if I have lost all my sex appeal.’
Gloria turned to Lorna. ‘Perhaps Lorna is the only lucky one. I know you’re going through hell now, love, but at least you’ve got away while you’re still young. We all want our old husbands back, as they used to be, but as they’ve seemed to have metamorphosed into monsters, we may be better off without them.’
Lorna didn’t like to admit that she would take Stephen back tomorrow if he came back as the man he used to be. Instead, to relieve the tension, she said, ‘Shutting them in Ravenscourt so they’d be away from temptation might make them come to their senses and realise what they might lose, or, in Stephen’s case, what they’ve already lost. Pity it wouldn’t come off.’
‘We could say we all wanted to stay somewhere different for Christmas, get them to Ravenscourt then leave them.’ Gloria said. ‘Decorate it to look like a wonderful country house; greenery, tree, Christmas fare and all and when we’ve got them there, we somehow lock them in.’
‘But even if we got them there, could we keep them there? We can hardly drug them and lock them in; if we disconnected the telephone they’d call for help on their mobiles. The house is isolated but not that isolated, and if we took their cars they could walk up the drive to the road and flag down a passing car.’ Lorna laughed at the madness of the idea.
‘I know it sounds far-fetched but even if it was only for Christmas Day it would be enough. Like you two, I’m so afraid my girls will refuse to spend Christmas at home. A family at their school sort of asked them to stay during the holidays. They were mortified by Ivan’s behaviour last year, I can’t tell you how embarrassing it was.’ Rosalind said in despair.
A draught of loneliness settled in Lorna. However badly Stephen had behaved, this Christmas, this first Christmas without him would be very hard. Why do we all have such an illusion of happy family Christmases? she thought. Families and friends all gathered round the laden table together, beaming with love and good will towards each other when, nine times out of ten, overtired, overfed and drunk people pecked and squabbled with each other like agitated chickens in a confined space.
Lorna felt sorry for Rosalind, who was one of the kindest women she knew, who in most circumstances would welcome someone who was alone for Christmas, but Ivan’s ‘guests’ were different. He boasted to anyone who’d listen about his ability to help some of the teenagers who came to his office, but in truth he was more interested in the people who helped them, social workers or minders of some sort who he liked to parade at home, perhaps to impress them or even to show Rosalind how they were impressed by him. Lorna and Gloria suspected that the sex bit was just Ivan’s wishful thinking, though it hurt Rosalind dreadfully. She came from a broken family herself with a father who’d deserted them, and had looked on Ivan as her saviour.
Another of Lorna’s fears was that, for the children’s sakes, she could be forced to have Stephen for lunch, because if she didn’t they would feel sorry for him and might even spend it with him, leaving her to the mercy of her sister and her ‘religious counselling’.
A young couple came into the restaurant. Their hair was tangled by the wind, their faces pinched with the cold, and yet they had a glow about them; their limbs forever touching, their eyes sending out messages of love and desire as they sat down close together. The man unwound the scarf from his girlfriend’s neck with a gentle intimacy that proclaimed how much they were part of each other. The three women looked away, close to tears. Once they had been like that, the loves of their husbands’ lives. Would they ever be loved like that again?
‘Well,’ Lorna said, briskly, to chase away their melancholy, ‘you must come and inspect Ravenscourt. You could give me your advice on what to do with it. I just hope,’ she attempted a laugh, ‘that Stephen won’t try and muscle in somehow.’
‘Why should he? The divorce is over. Did you know your godfather would leave the house to you?’ Gloria said.
‘No, it came as a complete surprise, but perhaps he could make a case against me for a share of it, I don’t know. We did have to divide everything we owned between us after all.’
‘Ask your lawyer if you’re worried, but knowing him, he will probably have some ideas about what to do with it.’ Rosalind frowned.
‘Let’s go and see this house . . . Ravenscourt,’ Gloria said, seeing that Rosalind’s words were spooking Lorna. ‘You said it’s in Sussex, where?’
‘Near Chichester, deep in the countryside.’
‘That‘s great. Nathan lives near there and I want to buy various goodies from him for Christmas. I want to make it as tempting as possible so Justin will come. He’s being a cagey about it and I know it’s because he can’t bear to see his father in such a state.’ Gloria gulped down the dregs of her wine.
‘Nathan?’ Lorna said, an unwelcome flush suffusing her body.
‘Yes, you know, that man who sells hams and other things. We could go to him, buy some stuff and see your house on the same trip,’ Gloria said. ‘You both might want to get some things from him too; he has quite the best Stilton. He goes and picks them out from whoever makes them and watches them mature until they are perfect. He has really good pâtés too, and smoked duck breast, and salmon. I’m sure you’d both find something you wanted, but if it’s a bore I'll go down in my own car.’
‘Sounds great,’ Rosalind said. ‘I’m always open for good food places. When shall we go?’
After short discussion it was settled that they would all go to Ravenscourt together the following week. Lorna did not want to go to Nathan’s but Rosalind was keen, questioning Gloria about his cooking skills. If she protested too much they’d quiz her and turn a foolish feeling she felt for him – ‘spinning’, she’d heard it called, when a person – her in this instance – exaggerated friendliness from a casual acquaintance of the opposite sex, into a deeper, more meaningful relationship.
‘Where exactly does he live?’ She hoped she sounded as if she didn’t care, but to her annoyance she was feeling quite flustered at the thought of seeing him again. With luck he lived too far away and they would not be able to fit in both visits.
‘Are you all right?’ Gloria regarded her sharply.
‘Of course, why wouldn’t I be?’ Lorna wiped her mouth on her napkin. What on earth was the matter with her? She was behaving like a love-crazed adolescent at the very mention of a grumpy, untidy man whose wife was surely wearing the raspberry pink, cashmere jumper she wanted for herself? Was she turning into one of those ridiculous women she so despised that went all giggly and silly whenever an even passable man was mentioned? She did so hope not.
7
Warring Grandparen
ts
‘Who is this dirty old man who has seduced my daughter? I’ll take him to court, I’ll….’ Lorna put the telephone down on the table so Stephen could rant to the air while she finished opening her letters. She dreaded telling him anything now, for she had no idea how he would react. He’d have been furious and upset in the past at such news, but he’d have been practical and thought of how best to deal with it.
Anyway what right had Stephen, who was now playing the role of a dirty old man himself, to be so angry with his daughter? Perhaps it was his guilt talking but he obviously didn’t feel guilty enough to dump the girl and come back to support his family.
Had he forgotten that he’d seduced her? Lorna was tormented by a sudden flashback from all those years ago; his tenderness as he showed her the delights of lovemaking, her first, her only lover. Though, unlike Flora’s situation, Stephen had not been married and they had not had children until they were.
She struggled to compose herself, reminding herself that the loveable man he’d been then had gone; that she must accept that and stop hoping he’d turn back into the man she’d married. She picked up the telephone receiver again, determined to hang up, but all she could hear was his heavy breathing. Was he having a heart attack? Should she call an ambulance? Would it be murder if she did not and he died? He gasped and gathered strength for another tirade, before becoming breathless again. She said quietly,
‘Thirty-five is hardly old, nor do I suppose is he dirty, but you at sixty-six shagging a girl not yet thirty are, so you have no right to criticise Flora.’ She heard him sputter and protest but she went on, ‘I hope you are past getting a girl pregnant for if you do, that will be the most shocking and disgusting thing.’ She rang off and burst into tears.
If only she were more like her mother, who thought all men were difficult so was never disappointed. She must move on from her shattered marriage, find a new life for herself, though it seemed like a new life had found her, thanks to Flora’s slip up.
Flora had returned home last night, pale and exhausted.
‘Hi Mum.’ Her voice was upbeat, a touch defiant, but when she hugged her she sagged against her and wept. Lorna was reminded of the times when Flora had been little and she or Stephen were able to solve her dramas: small things; an unfair teacher, a friend letting her down, events which may have seemed petty to them but which Flora, drama queen célèbre, made much of. But this was a serious, grownup problem and Stephen was not here to support them. This pregnancy, whatever the outcome, would affect their lives forever.
They’d sat down on the sofa together, arms still round each other. Since Flora had told her the news Lorna had had time – too much time – to think about it.
‘Have you told your father?’ Lorna asked, having not yet suffered Stephen’s onslaught.
‘Yes.’ Flora eyes swam with tears. ‘He thought it was disgusting, but he’s doing something far worse, with a bit of trash. Ben is not like that, he’s decent and honest and we didn’t think it would happen.’ Her voice was raw with pain, a child abandoned by her beloved father. Lorna suffered with her. Eventually she bundled her to bed with a mug of hot chocolate and words of comfort. The real discussion was yet to come.
It came after lunch and after Stephen’s telephone call, of which she’d said nothing to Flora. The bright morning became dark and the wind threw torrents of rain against the windows.
There was reluctance on both their sides to discuss the pregnancy, each of them knowing how vulnerable the other was, and hoping to avoid a row. At last, Lorna felt she must make the first move, and said, ‘Well, darling, we must talk about this. What are you going to do?’
Flora was sitting on the floor in the living room, leaning against the sofa, her long legs outstretched over the brightly coloured rug they’d chosen together on a family holiday to Morocco. Her hands curved round a mug of peppermint tea.
‘Have it of course,’ she said. ‘Ben’s so happy about it.’ Joy flared in her face for an instant, before fading. ‘He’s got to tell his wife and that’s going to be terrible. I mean,’ she clenched her lips and didn’t look at her mother, ‘she can’t have children. They have been trying with IVF, but nothing’s happened.’
‘That is tragic.’ Lorna was hit with sympathy for this unknown woman; yet another woman betrayed by her husband. What made it worse was that it was her daughter he’d betrayed her with. Another thought barged into her head. What if this woman and her husband adopted this baby – her grandchild? Took it away from Flora? She didn’t want Flora to be pregnant at this time in her life, and certainly not with a married man, but she was suddenly overwhelmed by a surge of possessiveness. Since seeing Flora she’d almost got used to the idea of this baby, and she didn’t want to lose it.
‘Tell me the story from the beginning. At first I thought you and Jamie were an item and that it was his.’
‘No, he’s hopeless. I met Ben by chance. I was coming back from my drawing class when my bag broke and my things fell into the road. He helped me pick them up; my drawings were blowing into puddles.’ She paused, stared into her mug, Lorna waited.
‘He was so kind, so caring. Other people, well, anyway, Jamie, would have just left them in the dirt. He took me into a flat he’d just come out of … he was looking after it for a friend and he laid my drawings out on a towel on the floor and put books on them to keep them flat. It sounds stupid …’ Flora flicked a look at her, ‘but it was his kindness that drew me to him. With Dad and all I’d been feeling sort of lost … We met a few times more and he was sad too, about his wife, and somehow that made us close.’
‘But Flora he is married and quite a bit older than you, old enough to know better,’ she said wildly, her stomach knotting with the anxiety of having to cope with this, add a baby into their now broken family. ‘What about his wife? She must be devastated.’
Flora looked guilty. ‘We didn’t mean to hurt her. He asked for my email so he could tell me when my pictures were dry. We met up when I collected them, he emailed me some more …just little things. We kept seeing each other, by chance at first; he works near my college and we passed each other most days. Then we started to look out for each other, sometimes we had a coffee or walked back together and talked … It was so special to talk. I was upset about Dad and breaking up with Jamie, and Ben was upset about his wife not getting pregnant. Then one weekend she was away and it happened.’
‘But it shouldn’t have done, Flora. Doesn’t he care for his wife? Shouldn’t he show some compassion and do all he can to support her through this difficult time?’ Anger burned in her – anger with Stephen for going off with that girl, and with his shrink for overdosing him; anger with this man who’d cheated on his wife and made her daughter pregnant.
‘I can’t explain it, Mum,’ Flora retorted, awkward with shame for a moment. ‘It was nothing to do with her; it was just us at that moment. I felt so close to him, wanted to be part of him.’
‘So it only happened once?’
Flora squirmed a little in embarrassment. ‘No, quite a few times actually. We care for each other, we do, and we need each other.’ She finished defiantly.
Lorna’s imagination went wild, seeing Ben as a Svengali kind of figure controlling Flora, perhaps even making her pregnant so his wife could have a child – hurriedly she dismissed this overdramatic scenario. She must not allow herself to overreact to the situation. ‘Why didn’t you take precautions?’ She said bossily.
‘I was on the pill but I stopped it when Jamie and I broke up. Ben and I used condoms but as he said he couldn’t have children, we didn’t always bother.’
‘Oh Flora, you have had sex education thrust at you since were too young to understand. Surely you know how easy it is to get pregnant, even Jamie knew that.’
‘Ben’s so different from Jamie. He’s grown up, he takes care of me, he’s there for me, unlike Jamie who I had to look after. Jamie’s hopeless; he loses his money, can’t remember his pin number, he’s such a baby.�
� She said this as if it were reason enough to have got into this mess.
‘So now you’re left with another kind of baby.’ The words came out before she could stop herself but she felt panicky now, thinking of the complications Flora’s condition would cause.
Flora glared at her, her blue eyes cold as glass. ‘That’s completely different.’
‘Yes, it is.’ Lorna said sharply, swirling with panic at having to cope with this. She swallowed; she must not allow her terror of this new situation to act like a blowtorch and scorch her words, turning Flora away from her. She was painfully conscious that she was her only parent now.
‘So Mum, will you help me or not? ’ Flora asked defiantly, her eyes hard upon her. ‘You know Nicola says being a granny is the greatest thing as now she has time for her grandchildren as she never did as a mother.’
‘Nicola is the same age as Dad and she has a lovely husband and not much else to do.’ Lorna felt near tears, she went on, ‘I don’t think you realise the magnitude of this.’ Lorna was cowed by it herself. ‘This baby will be your and its father’s responsibility forever and you’re going to have to give up a lot to bring it up. I’d hoped…’ She felt far too young and not ready to be a grandmother, and how would Stephen react when it was born? He was so unpredictable now. Would he insist on helping out, having it to stay in his dreary flat with that Pekinese woman? She swallowed, struggled on, ‘I’d hoped that in a few years’ time, you’d marry someone lovely, like your father used to be, have children then.’
‘But that didn’t work in the end, did it?’ Flora’s voice was raw with pain.
‘No, but it did for all your childhood.’ She felt defeated, fearful of what was to come. She got off the sofa, sat down on the floor beside Flora and put her arms round her.
‘We’re all upset after Dad going off like that, but you know I’ll help you, darling, when I can. And Dad still loves you somewhere in his addled brain, but the bottom line is it is your and … Ben’s responsibility.’ It was no good being sentimental, she told herself firmly. Flora and Ben were the parents of this child, and both were old enough to care for it. ‘Babies … children are hard work and a great responsibility, you must know that and that falls squarely on the parents.’
Difficult Husbands Page 6
