‘Oh,’ Wendy exclaimed, ‘Jess! I didn’t expect to see you.’
‘Sorry,’ Jess said. ‘If it’s inconvenient, I could come another day?’
‘No,’ Wendy said. ‘I didn’t mean that.’ Jess watched her as she opened the proffered card. Without her usual make-up she looked quite different. Her hair had been flattened against the pillows and needed a wash, and her face was pale, with large dark patches below the eyes. She had clearly been through an ordeal.
‘Lovely card,’ Wendy said, looking up, ‘and flowers too. Will they go in that vase over there, with the others?’
Jess stuffed them in carefully, one by one. ‘So, how are you?’ she asked.
‘Well I managed a bit of food today,’ Wendy said, ‘and I’ve had that horrible drain removed. There was yards and yards of it right inside my stomach, and it didn’t half hurt when they dragged it out!’
‘Sounds ghastly,’ Jess said.
‘Yeah, well I wouldn’t recommend it,’ Wendy smiled weakly.
‘I rather thought Hector would be here?’ Jess said.
‘Oh well, you know Hector,’ Wendy said with a martyred look. ‘He’s probably chasing some story or another. Whatever it is, it will be more important than me.’
Jess was stumped for a reply, her immediate but stifled response being: Well if that’s your attitude, I’m surprised he visits you at all!
‘Um… Is there something I can bring you, books or anything?’ she asked, noting the title of Trembling Heart without surprise.
‘Hector’s getting me some magazines today, but I can’t seem to take much in,’ Wendy said, ‘so don’t bother, thanks. I feel like my brain’s on strike.’
‘That’ll be because of the anaesthetic, I expect,’ Jess said. ‘I’m sure it will wear off soon.’
‘Certainly hope so,’ Wendy said.
After that, there didn’t seem to be much to say. Jess wandered over and looked out of the window. There was a good view of the car park and the chimney of the incinerator, but nothing much else. She was about to say that she really ought to be going, when the door burst open and Morgan rushed in, closely followed by his father.
Jess hadn’t seen the boy for some time. He was certainly very fetching to look at, and had a lot of Hector in him.
‘Mummy!’ He rushed over to hug Wendy.
‘Hello love! Come and give me a kiss… ow! Be careful of my sore tummy…’
‘Why, hello Jess. This is a nice surprise.’ Hector bent to deposit a fleeting kiss on his wife’s forehead before straightening up and smiling quizzically at her.
‘Listen to this,’ Morgan said to them all, screwing up his face in concentration:
‘We don’t care,
We don’t care,
People see our underwear,
If it’s black or if it’s white,
Oh my God, it’s dynamite!’
‘Morgan!’ Wendy cried, pretending to be shocked. Jess laughed.
‘Typical schoolboy stuff,’ Hector observed. ‘It has all the necessary elements; anarchy, smut, blasphemy and violence!’
‘I think it’s very good,’ Jess said.
‘The things they learn at school these days,’ Wendy said.
‘If you can memorise that nonsense,’ Hector said to his son, ‘then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to learn your two-times table, is there?’
‘S’different,’ Morgan muttered.
‘Did you bring the magazines?’ Wendy asked.
‘Damn!’ Hector said. ‘Forgot them. Sorry, I’ll buy some tomorrow.’
‘Oh, Hector!’
‘Well,’ Jess said hastily, ‘I think I’d better be going. ‘Bye Wendy.’
‘Bye Jess. Thanks for coming.’
‘See you,’ Hector said, and winked one eye very deliberately.
On the way home, Jess thought hard about herself and Hector, and about Wendy also. She felt sorry for her. Poor stupid Wendy, Jess thought. I know you’ve had a nasty operation and I do sympathise with you, but you quite obviously haven’t got what it takes to keep up with Hector.
And I have? she challenged herself – possibly… So what if he did want to have a baby with me, would that really be so offputting? Haven’t I always said I wanted children? It’s time I made up my mind. Maybe my parents are right, and I won’t get many more chances? Would I be stupid to refuse this one?… But he’s married, so it would be wrong… And yet I realise now that I’ve probably wanted him for years. But what about Wendy…? Jess went over and over the pros and cons for the rest of the evening and had just concluded that an affair couldn’t possibly be justified, when the doorbell rang. It was Hector.
‘Can I come in?’ he asked.
‘Depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On why you want to?’
‘Well, to see you of course.’ He gazed steadily at her.
‘Sounds reasonable,’ Jess said, and opened the door wide.
Hector felt uncharacteristically nervous. He sat on Jess’s futon and wondered how he was going to talk her round.
‘Whisky?’ Jess offered.
‘Yes please.’
‘Water?’
‘About the same again, thanks.’ He watched her closely and wondered why he had never really seen her before. I’ve been too hung up on conventional good looks, he thought, too brainwashed by fashion. Here is a woman who appreciates my sense of humour, who is young and slim, and never tells me what to do! Why the hell didn’t I marry her seven years ago, instead of poor old Wendy?
‘Take your specs off a minute,’ he said as she sat down opposite him. Jess did so. ‘That’s better,’ Hector said. ‘You have the most beautiful eyes, you know. It’s a wicked waste to hide them behind such stern glasses. Have you ever considered contact lenses?’
‘No,’ Jess said firmly.
‘Or I believe these days, you can even get short sight permanently cured by laser treatment?’
‘NO!’
Hector wanted to say, ‘I love you,’ but couldn’t quite form the words. That sort of tenderness didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe later on, in the dark when they were in bed together. ‘I think you’re wonderful,’ he managed.
‘But you’d still like to change me?’
‘Sorry?’ He had hoped she would be looking a little less defensive by this time. Surely his accustomed technique wouldn’t let him down – not now when it really mattered?
‘Well, you like my eyes but not my glasses. You probably like my figure but not my clothes, or even my intelligence but not my personality?’ She jammed her glasses back on to her nose, and glared at him.
‘Jess, cariad, why are you suddenly so cross?
‘Why d’you think?’
‘Well I really have no idea. You’re wrong, you know. I love everything about you.’ (There – he’d said it!) ‘Only say the word, and I’ll show you?’
Jess still seemed unimpressed. ‘That’s just the point.’
‘What is?’
‘You’re a married man, Hector. You’re not in any position to offer me anything!’
Hector sighed, and spread his hands. ‘You’re right, of course,’ he said. ‘But if you were to find that you could love me in return, then such things could be sorted out. Nothing in this life is immutable…’ He could see her resolution faltering, and continued recklessly, ‘and you’re wrong you know, I do love your clothes, everything. I wish I’d realised this years ago. I can’t bear to think how much time I’ve wasted…’ She was looking softer, wasn’t she? ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’ he begged.
‘Well,’ Jess began, ‘it’s so unexpected, you see. It’s hard to take in…’
‘Come and sit next to me.’ Hector patted the futon. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been rushing you. Let’s forget everything we’ve been saying, and just talk. What are you drinking?’
‘I’ve a glass of cider in the kitchen. I’ll fetch it.’
When she came back, she sat down beside him and smile
d at him shyly. I must take things much more slowly, Hector told himself. Jess clearly isn’t the sort of woman who leaps into a man’s bed on impulse (unlike some I’ve known!) but when she does, then she really means it. It’ll be worth waiting for.
‘I know who you remind me of,’ he said, reaching out and running his forefinger down the curve of her cheek and jawbone, ‘my great-grandmother Gwladys. You’ve seen my big portrait of her? I’ve had it in all my various houses (including that dreadful pokey flat where it dwarfed everything and looked ridiculous). It’s about the only family heirloom I managed to save, and it looks marvellous now in my study at the old Rectory.’ He took a pull at his whisky, and smiled at her. ‘Anyway, there’s a definite resemblance, by some strange coincidence. She was a famous society beauty in her day, you know?’
‘Flattery,’ Jess said, grinning sceptically, ‘is unlikely to get you anywhere.’
‘No, seriously,’ Hector said. ‘I mean it.’ He bent and kissed her cheek. It felt cool. ‘And thanks for going to see Wendy. It was good of you.’
‘I meant to ask you,’ Jess said, ‘Why were you so late in getting to the hospital? I thought you’d be there well before me. Nigel said you’d left work soon after two thirty.’
‘Ah, well I didn’t go straight there,’ Hector said. He nuzzled into her neck and made little kissing noises.
Jess was not to be distracted. She leant away. ‘So, where did you go?’
‘I heard a friend of mine’s son was in trouble,’ Hector said, ‘so I thought I ought to pop over and see how they were.’
‘Anyone I know? And what sort of trouble?’
‘I’m not sure you’d remember them,’ Hector said smoothly, ‘but the boy’s been in court for “borrowing” a car. I expect it was a one-off thing, a dare or something. There wasn’t much point my going over there actually. There was nothing I could do. Oh, Jessie my sweeting, I’m afraid I shall have to go home soon in case Wendy phones, I do wish I didn’t have to…’
But Jess was tenacious. ‘So what’s their name?’
‘Brakespear,’ Hector muttered unwillingly.
‘Zillah Brakespear?’
‘Mmmmm.’
Jess sat forwards abruptly and turned to face him. ‘So why didn’t you tell me straight away?’ she demanded.
‘Well, it didn’t seem that important,’ Hector said.
‘But you’ve just told me you love me! Or was I mistaken?’
‘No… I do… I’m sorry Jess… but I don’t follow…’
Jess looked furious. ‘It should be obvious,’ she cried, looking at him incredulously. ‘If we’re to have any sort of a relationship, then at the very least, we must be able to trust each other!’
Next morning Hector awoke alone in his own house after a troubled night, and decided that come what may, he really did have to know whether Florian was his son or not. It might well upset Jess even more, but love wasn’t retrospective, so you couldn’t be held accountable for absolutely everything you’d done in the past. He wasn’t sure how well he’d managed to mollify her the night before. He’d told her over and over again that he wasn’t the least bit interested in Zillah, really, but Jess had seemed unconvinced. She had assumed that it was Christian who was in trouble and Hector, to his shame, had not disabused her. There would be plenty of time to talk about Florian once the tests had been done. Then he would confess everything, and all would be above board.
Before going to work, Hector telephoned a doctor he was friendly with at the local hospital, and sounded him out on DNA testing. He had to endure a certain amount of ribaldry at his own expense and was warned that it could cost a bit and might take about a month, because it involved matching up the DNA bar-code pattern from the child with those from both its putative parents, and checking that every band in the child was present in one or other of the parents (allowing only a one percent difference for mutations). This sounded fair enough to Hector.
The next stage was to get Zillah to present herself and the boy at the right place and time for their blood samples to be taken. He was pretty sure that this would pose no problem. He was under no illusions as to her motives; she was clearly only in it for the maintenance money. Hector recognised that if the boy turned out to be his, he would be obliged to help pay for his upkeep, but he felt that was as it should be. He wasn’t one to shirk his responsibilities. What he hoped was that he would also be granted access to Florian. He was sure he would be able to prevent him from going to the bad, even exert a positive influence; get him reading some good classic books… take him to museums and stimulate his interest… play Scrabble? Hector sighed.
Morgan still doggedly refused to read. He tore through museums without pausing to glance at any of the captions and was bored in five minutes. As for Scrabble, it continued to be a non-starter. Hector was becoming more and more worried that there was something genuinely wrong with him – a duff set of genes from his mother or maybe, perish the thought, actual brain damage. He was such a beautiful child too…
Five weeks later, Zillah read the letter containing the paternity test result at lunchtime on a Saturday, and let out a whoop of triumph.
‘What?’ Christian asked.
‘Good news,’ Zillah said, ‘or as you might say, “a nice little earner”. Florian? D’you remember the man I was talking to in his car when you got home from school six weeks or so ago?’
‘Nah,’ Florian said with his mouth full of pizza.
‘You mean the old git in the really ancient car?’ Christian asked.
‘Yes, and less of the “old” if you don’t mind. He’s the one who took us in when we were flooded out, don’t you remember? He gave you lots of books.’
‘What about him?’ Florian asked.
‘Well,’ Zillah said slowly. ‘This may come as a bit of a shock to you, but it seems he is your biological father.’
Florian gaped at her. ‘Wharrer ‘bout Clive?’
‘Clive is Christian’s dad, Hector is yours, and Johnny-gone-lately is this one’s.’ She patted her bulge. ‘You’re lucky. Hector is by far the richest.’
‘But I don’t want…’ Florian began
‘It’s all right, don’t worry. You won’t have to go and live with him or anything like that. Nothing’s going to change. After all, Christian hasn’t seen Clive for ages, and this one’s never likely even to meet its dad, so you’ll all three be in the same boat, OK? Just be polite to him when he comes round with the money, and we’ll all be fine.’
‘Maybe he won’t pay up?’ Christian observed. ‘I mean… it wouldn’t be much of a return on his investment would it?’ He swallowed the last of his lunch and laughed shortly.
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Zillah said, smiling at Florian.
Florian, sensing a tease but not being able to understand it, jumped up from his chair and aimed a volley of punches at Christian, who held him off easily with one arm.
‘Hey! Stay cool, OK?’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to get all stressed out about. Three different fathers, eh? Could be a really interesting experiment in genetics. But this Hector bloke hasn’t got red hair?’
‘No,’ Zillah said, ‘but he says it’s in his family.’ She saw a movement outside the window from the corner of her eye and glanced up. ‘That’s handy, he’s here now! You can ask him yourself.’ She went to the door to meet Hector, leaving the two boys at the kitchen table.
‘Have you had the test results?’ Hector asked eagerly. ‘I almost came round first thing, but I thought I ought to give you time to break the news.’
‘Our post doesn’t get here ‘til midday,’ Zillah said, ‘I’ve only just told Florian this minute.’
‘So, how did he take it?’
‘Oh pretty much in his stride, I think. He’s a fairly laid-back character.’
‘Oh good.’ He followed her into the kitchen.
‘Right, boys,’ Zillah said. ‘Here he is.’
Florian, still standing next to Christian, turned round to look full at
Hector. His wide blue eyes were fringed by long sandy lashes and his face was expressionless as he opened his mouth and spoke firmly and clearly.
‘Clive’s my dad not you, so you can sodding well fuck off!’
Chapter 17
In the days before the paternity test result had arrived, Hector had watched for the appearance of the day’s post with anxiety and anticipation. He really did not know what to hope for. Would Florian be another son to invest his interest in, to take the intellectual place of the inadequate Morgan? Or would he turn out to be a disturbed child whom he would never be able to guide towards the ideal? Hector couldn’t possibly know, and the uncertainty troubled him. It was, however, vital that Wendy didn’t get wind of all this before he had had time to sort it out himself. He must ensure that she didn’t open the letter by mistake.
In the event, it was Saturday morning when it arrived and Wendy was still in bed. Hector, thanking the gods for their dispensation, opened it in the kitchen in trepidation. Morgan was also in the room, but Hector knew he wouldn’t try to read it over his shoulder. There were some compensations for illiteracy.
He read the letter with impatience. DNA testing was not an exact science but the probability was… Hector sat down suddenly at the table and put his head in his hands. He was Florian’s father! Emotion overwhelmed him. How did he feel? He thought, I knew as soon as I saw him in those lights from the bus! I just knew. Delight struggled awkwardly with the sudden awareness of future complications. Delight won.
‘Da… ddy?’ Morgan began in an irritating whine. ‘I’m bored. Why can’t you play with me?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Hector said expansively, carried away by inner joy, ‘I’m busy today, but tomorrow I’ll take you to see the lions of Longleat. I promise.’ Then he folded the letter and stowed it safely in his wallet. And later on today, he thought, as soon as I can get away, I shall rush over and see Zillah!
The next morning Hector regretted his promise to Morgan but felt obliged to abide by it. He drove the boy and his mother to Longleat with his mind very much elsewhere, and it was only when the rhesus monkeys began leaping about all over the roof of his precious Jaguar, that Hector’s thoughts properly returned to the present.
The Would-Begetter Page 19
