Gone Tomorrow

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  ‘I think it’s ceased to wander, really. He’s discovered he doesn’t really want to. It was just force of habit.’

  ‘Fine excuse.’

  ‘We had a bit of a chat earlier on. He was going home this evening to apologise and make everything right.’ He looked at her sideways. ‘Do you think she’ll forgive him?’

  ‘She’ll have to,’ Joanna said. ‘They can’t split up now they have two cats between them, can they?’

  ‘No. Divorce is hell on pets – turns them into feline delinquents.’

  He felt her come to it, an almost physical sensation, like an indrawn breath. ‘And what about us?’

  ‘What about us?’ he gave the question back. ‘You’ve been gearing up to say something to me, I know. You held off because of my case, but I can’t hide behind that for ever. Maybe it’d be best to get it out and get it over with.’ She was still silent, and he went on, ‘Say something to stop me babbling. Can’t you tell I’m scared to death?’

  She gave him a strange look. ‘Scared of what?’

  Over the edge in a barrel. ‘That you want to end it. That you’ve found someone else.’

  ‘After the proofs of love I’ve just given you?’

  ‘You might just have been being kind,’ he said; but he almost grinned with huge relief. It wasn’t that. He could tell. There was no-one else. Maybe she was just going to revive the question of his going to Amsterdam, a much less scary possibility. ‘Go on, out with it. What did you want to talk about?’

  ‘I’m going to tell you something,’ she said in a rather strained voice, ‘and you have to be very careful what you say in reply, because if you get it wrong it’ll kill me. Are you ready?’

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

  ‘All right then. Here it is.’ She swivelled to face him so that she could watch his expression. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  He said absolutely nothing. His brain could not get to grips with it.

  ‘Well, I suppose that’s better than saying the wrong thing,’ she said. She looked at him wryly. ‘You hadn’t guessed that’s what it was? Some bloody detective you are!’

  ‘How?’ was all he managed to say.

  ‘What do you mean, how? Didn’t they do human reproduction in biology?’

  ‘Not when I was at school. I suppose I mean when, really. On what occasion.’

  ‘When I came back in February, as far as I can make out.’ She looked a little conscious. ‘I don’t remember missing a pill, but when I got back to Amsterdam I found I must have.’ She gave a lop-sided smile. ‘It wasn’t deliberate, I promise you, but – well, they say there’s no such thing as an accident, don’t they? Maybe subconsciously – look, I’m doing all the talking. You still haven’t said anything. About it. About being pleased. Or not.’

  ‘I’m pleased,’ he said, taking her hand. February? She was three months gravid, then. The child was well on the way. His child, his-and-hers child. And what did he think about that? Children, to him, were Kate and Matthew. He’d been a father already, he’d done that bit, and he wouldn’t have been normal if he didn’t think, however fleetingly, of broken nights and nappies, responsibility and expense, and the curtailment of freedom children brought.

  But it was only fleeting. Her dear face was close, and though she was trying to make light of it he could see her apprehension. If you say the wrong thing it will kill me. She had been alone with the pregnancy for nearly three months, alone and wondering, hoping for the best and fearing the worst, afraid to tell him in case he was not delighted.

  Well, she should not be alone with it any more. He was delighted. A child, her child, their child, was already started and on its way, and the least it deserved was for them both to be wholeheartedly glad about it. It should not come into the world with any remembered coolness to blight it, no unwelcoming word, like the bad fairy’s gift, to come back to haunt it.

  ‘You really didn’t guess?’ she said, watching his thoughts flit about his face, and – more importantly – the slowly dawning smile.

  ‘Not a bit. Call me dumb.’

  ‘Dumb. But you really are pleased? I mean, I know it wasn’t planned, and the situation is—’

  He stopped her with a kiss. ‘I’m dumb with bliss. It wasn’t what I expected, but how could I not want our child?’

  She almost sagged with relief. ‘Bless you for that. I’ve made a complete mess of this. I should have told you weeks ago. I just didn’t know how to.’

  ‘I understand,’ he said. Matthew and Kate and – well, call him X. Him or her. He felt a surge of wild excitement grasp his loins. Their child would be special. What would Kate and Matthew think about it? He must make sure they never felt set aside for the new one. He would have to talk seriously to Irene to make sure she said the right things too. And what the hell was he thinking about Irene for at a moment like this?

  ‘But what will you do now?’ he asked. ‘I mean, you’re over there and I’m over here. We’ll have a schizophrenic baby.’

  ‘What would you think about my coming back?’

  ‘What about the job?’

  ‘I was only doing it on trial. I’d have to give it up, of course. Try and subsist on casual work, whatever I could pick up over here. For as long as I could work. I could keep going almost up to the day. And after the baby’s born—’

  ‘We’ll manage,’ he said.

  ‘It’ll be tight.’

  ‘It’ll be all right. Money’s the least of it.’

  ‘Oh brave man! You just wait.’

  ‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘I know about babies and expense, remember. People expect too much, that’s what makes the problems. You can always manage, if you have to.’ He lifted her hand and kissed it. ‘There is just one thing.’

  ‘Oh?’ she said suspiciously.

  ‘One small proviso.’

  ‘I smell a rat,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I think I’m entitled to one demand. After all, you did trick me into this—’

  ‘You bastard!’

  ‘Nail on head, as usual,’ he said. ‘I’m an old-fashioned sort of bloke, as well you know.’

  ‘Hidebound,’ she agreed. ‘Practically ossified.’

  ‘And if we’re going to have a baby, I’m afraid I must insist on our doing it properly.’ She looked at him. ‘Will you marry me? And I warn you, it’s one of those “Nonne” questions.’

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘Questions that expect the answer “yes”.’

  ‘Oh, those!’

  The phone rang. They looked at each other and then burst out laughing. Slider picked it up.

  ‘I thought you were still at work,’ Atherton said.

  ‘What are you ringing me here for, then?’

  ‘I thought you’d like to know the result of your advised plan of action. You know, bottle of wine, nice meal, soft lights, heart-to-heart talk?’

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Well, apart from the cats going mad around us, very well. She forgave me.’

  ‘I thought she would. And?’

  ‘She still loves me.’

  ‘Wise woman. And?’

  ‘Brace yourself for a shock. I asked her to marry me.’ Slider began to smile, slowly. Into his silence, Atherton spoke again. Are you there? Did you hear what I said? I said, we’re going to get married.’

  ‘Now there’s a coincidence,’ said Slider.