Good Husband Material

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Me!’

  ‘Yes. Glenda seems to have left suddenly within a week of your birth, and Mr Norwood arrived almost immediately to take his wife and yourself home. Even after this length of time, some of the local inhabitants remember the goings-on as being a little out of the ordinary.’

  I should think they might! I sat back, and found Fergal looking anxiously at me.

  ‘I hope this hasn’t been too much of a shock, Tish?’

  ‘No,’ I said a little shakily. ‘It’s a lot better than some of the things that occurred to me since Granny sowed the seeds of doubt in my mind, I can tell you. You know, I even had visions of Mother snatching some stranger’s baby! At least this keeps it in the family.’ A doubt struck me. ‘Except for the father, I suppose. I don’t know who he was. And I don’t know where Glenda is, either.’

  ‘Shall I make a few more enquiries and see if I can find out what happened to her?’

  ‘Would you like that, Tish?’ asked Fergal.

  ‘Oh, yes, please. I don’t suppose Mother will tell me if she knows, though surely, whatever happened, Glenda would want to know what happened to her baby. How could she just dump me on her sister and vanish like that?’

  ‘She was very young,’ pointed out Mr Rooney. ‘And she perhaps thought it would be better for you to grow up as her sister’s child.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said, but still, I can’t imagine just handing the Incubus to someone else when it’s born and walking away.

  The frustrating thing is that Mother could tell me All but I’m sure when I try to get the details from her she’ll hysterically deny everything.

  The effort is beyond me at the moment; I feel a great inertia creeping over me like a marshmallow avalanche.

  Fergal: January 2000

  Exclusive interview with Goneril’s manager:

  Final tour not to be their last, after all …

  NME

  Hywel at it again, but his tactics aren’t going to work any more than Nerissa’s ever did, because no amount of saying something to the press will make it true.

  I’ll be glad when Tish has finally divorced James and more than happy to help her achieve that, now I know what kind of man he is. That might sound strange coming from me, but he never deserved her. I don’t think I deserve her either, but if it wasn’t for Lucia’s advice to take things slowly …

  Chapter 41: Green-Eyed Men

  Mrs Blacklock came in to see the puppies before my lesson. She didn’t want one, she just couldn’t believe Mrs Deakin’s description of them.

  She emerged ten minutes later covered in dog hair and drool, the bewildered future owner of one of the last two puppies, which just leaves the one with the enormous ears and permanent worried expression.

  Next week I’m having driving lessons every afternoon, and what with all the practice I’m getting with Fergal I should be ready for the test (or as ready as I’ll ever be) .

  My solicitor phoned in the afternoon to say the cheque (from Fergal!) has been duly handed over to James, and the agreement signed: the divorce is proceeding.

  Just as I put the phone down on that glad news a van drew up and disgorged a mountain of the baby equipment I’d bought through Margaret.

  There was an amazing amount of it – it filled the hall and spilled over into the front garden. Boxes and boxes, plus odd items of furniture. Surely one little baby doesn’t need so much? Mrs Peach’s curtains were twitching like mad!

  I was still dazedly surveying the piles of stuff when a large unfamiliar car drew up and Fergal got out, followed by a younger, less angular version of himself – his brother Carlo.

  Carlo waded through the boxes and kissed me with enthusiasm on both cheeks and the mouth.

  ‘Tish! You look wonderful!’

  He’d started in to kiss me all over again when Fergal’s icy voice just behind us snapped, ‘Put her down, Carlo!’

  ‘Hands off?’ Carlo enquired with a grin, and set me back on my feet (breathless).

  Fergal ignored this, and turned the glacial stare on me. ‘You shouldn’t be standing about in this cold wind! And what is all this stuff?’

  ‘Baby equipment. I bought it from a friend of a friend, but I wasn’t expecting quite so much!’

  ‘Looks like we got here at just the right time,’ Carlo said. ‘We came to ask you to dinner – Maria said we weren’t to take no for an answer.’

  ‘That’s very kind, but I’ll be pretty busy today, trying to find somewhere to put everything …’ I said helplessly.

  ‘It’ll look much less when it’s unpacked,’ Fergal assured me. ‘We’ll take it upstairs and do that.’

  I was so glad to see he was coming out of the bad mood he’d arrived in that I didn’t argue when he wouldn’t let me carry even one little box.

  He was right about it seeming less unpacked, too – but not that much. There was a cot, high chair, baby bath, bedding, clothes … and what would fans of Goneril think if they could see their idols now, assembling a cot like a giant three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle?

  I stowed things away in the little wardrobe unit and the drawers of the baby-changing table, which was a pale mint green, like most of the rest of the equipment. It goes well with the stencilled trees, and I thought I’d get a rug and some curtains in a colour scheme that will draw it all together.

  Carlo and Fergal flattened the empty cartons and took them outside, so by the time they’d finished I’d practically got a complete nursery – and a nasty surprise for the refuse collectors.

  All it needed now was a baby. A shiver went down my spine. Wasn’t it tempting fate, or bad fairies, or something, to have everything waiting? But you can’t leave it until the baby actually arrives!

  ‘I could do with more drawers, and perhaps a wardrobe,’ I mused. ‘I saw one in a magazine like a little striped beach tent.’

  ‘You have the basics so you can afford one or two extras,’ Fergal agreed, setting the wicker bassinet on to its stand while Carlo suspended a musical mobile above the cot.

  ‘Did you really only give a hundred pounds for all this?’ he added.

  ‘Yes – she must be so rich she doesn’t care! I like all this pale green, don’t you? But I could get tired of shell-pink baby clothes.’

  ‘So will the baby if it’s a boy,’ Carlo pointed out, lying on the floor to see the effects of the mobile from underneath with the lights and music working. ‘This is fun!’

  ‘You’d better have a little chat with Sara, then,’ Fergal suggested. ‘He’s getting married,’ he explained to me.

  ‘Congratulations, Carlo!’

  Carlo rose to his feet, smiling. ‘Thank you. I’d let you kiss me, but I’m afraid of Fergal!’

  ‘Fool!’ his brother said amiably, his earlier bad mood seeming to have worn off completely. ‘But have you thought of the damage domestic bliss will do to your image? The fans will desert you in droves.’

  ‘Me!’ exclaimed Carlo. ‘What about—’

  A look from Fergal silenced him, so I’ll never know what indiscretions he was about to give away.

  The room was transformed, and Carlo was right – it had been fun. But it was getting late, so I gave them a drink out of my modest cache (Guinness, cooking sherry, or Guinness) and left them phoning Maria while I went to change.

  I put on The Dress and brushed the Barrett Browning ringlets into loose waves, and by the time I got back downstairs Carlo was nursing the last unclaimed puppy on his knee with a familiar bemused expression on his handsome face.

  ‘But how on earth will you exercise the thing in London, Carlo?’ Fergal was objecting practically.

  ‘I live opposite the park, and anyway, we’re going to buy a country cottage.’

  ‘You’ll need two – one for the dog!’

  The puppy had really taken to Carlo and didn’t want to let him go. I had to promise he could take it back with him tomorrow – it is almost eight weeks old – and we rescued one of the bigger cartons to transport it in.

&
nbsp; Carlo flirted with me so outrageously at dinner that even Fergal had to laugh, and Maria said he should be ashamed of himself, and what would his fiancée say?

  She fussed over me so much that on the way home I asked Fergal if she really thought it was his baby after all.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m terribly sorry, Fergal!’

  ‘What for? I’m beginning to feel as if it’s mine, too!’

  He was only joking, but it’s true he’s done more for the baby than James has.

  Early next morning Carlo called in on his way back to town to collect the puppy, and as we padded out the carton with crumpled paper and an old towel he stunned me by remarking, ‘I’m really glad you and Fergal have got back together again, Tish.’

  I sat back on my heels and stared at him. ‘Carlo, we aren’t – we haven’t – got back together like that! We’re just friends, and he’s been so good to me, even though I must have been a nuisance with all my boring problems and the pregnancy and everything. I even caused a quarrel between him and that girl Nerissa he was seeing.’

  ‘Nerissa?’ he dismissed her with a shrug. ‘She’s nothing – a smokescreen for the gossip columns, if that. And I don’t think he’s bored. Remember how he snapped my head off just for kissing you yesterday?’

  I went scarlet. ‘Don’t be silly, Carlo! He was just in a temper about something. He couldn’t possibly think about me that way – especially now!’

  ‘He loves children, and you know that he wouldn’t let the baby not being his make any difference to him.’

  ‘No, not if he did feel like that about me … but he doesn’t! You’ve got it wrong.’

  Carlo looked unconvinced. ‘It’ll be interesting to see if his lyrics cheer up, now.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘You must have realised that a lot of his songs are about you?’ He sang a few lines of ‘Red-Headed Woman’ in a voice nearly as husky as Fergal’s.

  ‘No, of course not – I don’t believe you! Besides,’ I added tartly, ‘I haven’t got red hair.’

  ‘You haven’t listened to the words very closely then.’

  ‘I haven’t listened at all if I could help it – it was too painful to hear his voice after we split up.’

  ‘I’ll send you some CDs down – you listen to them!’

  ‘But even if you’re right about that – which I’m sure you can’t be – you’re quite, quite wrong about his having any feelings for me now except friendship and – and pity.’

  ‘You’re impossible!’ he said, but he smiled. ‘Come on, let’s get this monster loaded into the car.’

  We jammed the box in front of the passenger seat where the puppy could see Carlo. It couldn’t get out, because the sides were too high – just.

  He would be all right as long as it didn’t grow on the way there.

  I gave him some puppy food, and then Bess and I stood side by side and saw them off. She wagged her tail as the car vanished from sight.

  After he’d gone I found it hard to settle to anything. How on earth could Carlo make such a mistake?

  And perhaps some of his earlier lyrics were about me, which is rather touching, but then – most of the heroes in my books are black-haired, green-eyed men!

  It would be strange to think we’d been each other’s muses throughout the years we were apart.

  Fergal: February 2000

  ‘THE FROCK THAT’S OUT TO SHOCK

  Ex-girlfriend of Fergal Rocco reveals almost all

  at the party of the season.’

  Exposé magazine

  Pop isn’t going to like that one, but at least he can’t blame my bad influence this time.

  In any case, I hope I’ve always known the difference between the outrageous and the vulgar.

  But at least if she is calling herself my ex-girlfriend, she must surely have given up on me.

  Carlo came down for a flying visit – I knew he’d guessed what was going on, from one or two things I’d said over Christmas, and was worried about me. And then, stupidly, I felt so jealous when he kissed Tish!

  We had a good evening, though, and when I’d taken Tish home again Carlo said he could see how things were with me and he wished me luck. I think I’ll need it …

  I don’t know what his fiancée is going to think of that puppy!

  Chapter 42: Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre

  Bob was hovering around the garden at the crack of dawn to collect his puppy on the day they were eight weeks old, but I was prepared for him this time. He’d been getting steadily more excited all week.

  His face was blissful, and I was deeply touched when he stood up holding his puppy and assured Bess that he would ‘look after ’un proper!’ (Not that she cared.)

  Then he vanished with it, and was seen no more for the rest of the day.

  Margaret came for hers with a smart, purpose-made cardboard container and stayed for a long chat. I showed her the nursery and she admired the colour scheme, and had a few helpful ideas about what else I needed. Then she asked me if I would help her choose the colour scheme of her nursery later.

  ‘Wendy’s moved in with James permanently now, so I got Ray to ask him to leave as soon as possible. She wouldn’t look so smug if she knew how often James has been seen about with that Nerissa.’

  ‘What one earth does Nerissa see in him?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Well, he’s rather attractive,’ Margaret mused, to my amazement. ‘You must have thought so yourself at one time.’

  ‘I suppose so. And his being older than me didn’t seem to matter at first. But Nerissa is very young. He could almost be her father – or Wendy’s!’

  I could see there was something else she was concealing, and after a bit of pumping she told me that the entire village was now watching me and Fergal with the sort of acute interest normally only accorded to the TV soaps. They’re practically taking bets on the father of the Incubus since James aired his doubts in the pub one night while under the influence, the creep.

  ‘Just because Fergal is sorry for me, and helping me for old times’ sake, it doesn’t make him the father of my child. He’s a good friend and nothing more.’ (Unfortunately.)

  ‘Is he?’ she said doubtfully. ‘It’s just that you hear such terrible stories about him – though he could have reformed, couldn’t he?’

  ‘You can’t believe everything you see in the press!’

  ‘No … I suppose not. Did he really – you know – that time in Rome, with the six nuns and—’

  ‘No!’ I said shortly.

  ‘Oh?’ she sounded disappointed.

  We got on to the subject of driving tests, and she said to immediately put in for a re-test if I failed first time, because she passed on her fifth, having worn them down by persistence. Then she staggered off down the drive, listing to starboard, with the puppy in its carrier.

  Later, Mrs Deakin and Dulcie Blacklock came together to collect their puppies: mutual support, I suppose. Suddenly the kitchen looked quite empty.

  Bess kept staring at the last puppy as if hoping it would vanish, too.

  Fergal came to dinner, and I did wholewheat pasta with a seafood sauce from the freezer, care of Maria, which must have made it home from home except for the pasta being darker.

  After Carlo’s remarks I felt a bit shy at first even though I know he’s got it wrong, but the feeling soon wore off. Afterwards Fergal washed up while I put my feet up (under protest – I’d hardly been slaving over a hot stove for hours). Then he asked if he could do some drawings of me and we sat there peacefully for an hour or so, exchanging the odd word. It was very comfortable … companionable, even.

  Later I distracted Bess with a biscuit while Fergal removed the last puppy.

  I needn’t have bothered, really, because Bess thought it was a fair exchange, and didn’t even look for it when I let her out again.

  Tomorrow I’m going to give that corner by the Aga a jolly good clean-out.

  After I’d finished
disinfecting the kitchen I phoned Mother on impulse and told her I’d discovered that her sister, Glenda, was my real mother. I thought the initial approach might be easier by phone.

  There was a small, stunned silence, and then she quavered, ‘Don’t be silly, darling. Of course I’m your real mummy!’

  ‘But, Mother—’

  ‘It’s so upsetting when you say this sort of thing, Leticia, and I don’t want to hear any more about it,’ she said repressively.

  ‘Mother, I don’t want to upset you, but I need to know. Couldn’t we just talk about it?’

  ‘I absolutely refuse to discuss the topic further!’ she said, hysteria in her voice.

  I sighed. ‘All right – but do you know where Glenda’s living now? It would be nice to get in touch with my only aunt.’ (My giddy aunt? My mad mother?)

  ‘No. We washed our hands of her. She was never any good. It broke Father’s heart when she ran away like that, and drove him to an early death.’

  ‘I always thought he was an alcoholic, and that was why you—’

  ‘Broken heart!’ she screeched, and began to sob gustily. ‘If you loved me you wouldn’t go upsetting me by raking all this up now!’

  I had a feeling she did know where Glenda was, but wasn’t going to tell me. I spent some time soothing her down.

  I expect Mr Rooney will find Glenda.

  I’ve had a solid week of driving lessons and am too shattered to think straight! Fergal has taken me out driving practically every morning, too.

  The only diversion has been the reports coming in from the Devil Puppy Owners’ Club suggesting they’re literally eating their new homes, so I was interested in hearing that Margaret’s vet had advised her to buy a sort of giant cage in which to incarcerate the little horror when necessary. Apparently this helps with house-training too, since you line it with white fleece, and they don’t soil their bedding.

  I immediately spread the news of this discovery to the other owners. Fergal said Carlo’s fiancée would be eternally grateful, and Maria had insisted he go out and purchase one of these things immediately.