‘Well – the lease is about to expire and I—’
‘Eliza, talk to Louise, see if she’s got any ideas. She’s got a few residential properties on the side. She knows about leases. Sorry, got to go, Barry Floyd’s here.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’
Well, what had she expected? That he would say, ‘oh, don’t renew your lease, move in with me’. Or – ‘let’s get somewhere together’. Not expected that, no. But – maybe – hoped for.
It was a clue at least.
‘Maddy, hi, it’s me.’
‘Eliza! What’s the verdict, tell me quickly.’
‘It’s positive.’
‘Oh, God. Well – I suppose – anyway, what does Matt say?’
‘I haven’t told Matt.’
‘What!’
‘He was rushing into a meeting.’
‘Tell him tonight, then.’
‘Yes. Yes, I will.’
‘Promise!’
‘Yes, I promise. Of course.’
‘Matt—’
‘Yes? God, I’m exhausted. So tired. And starving. Is there anything we can eat? Otherwise, let’s go out.’
‘Um – well – no, there isn’t. But I do want to talk to you.’
‘We can talk in the restaurant. Surely.’
‘Yes, OK.’
‘Meet me in the Soup Kitchen, the one near Harrods, in half an hour, OK?’
‘Yes, OK.’
Over a bowl of vegetable soup, she tried again.
‘Matt, now can we talk?’
‘Oh – yes. All right. What, about this lease of yours?’
‘Yes. And—’
‘I’ve been thinking and—’ (please, please say, ‘and I want you to move in with me … and I think we should get a place together’) ‘—and I think you should just renew the lease on that flat. It’s very good value, and you’re not there much and you’ll waste a lot of time and effort looking for somewhere else …’
‘Oh. Oh, I see.’
‘Ask Louise to check the lease, she’ll know if it’s a good one, OK?’
‘Well – yes.’
‘Good. Now let me tell you about the meeting we had today, Barry Floyd and I, with his builders, really promising …’
She pushed her chair back, and stood up. He stared at her.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I don’t feel too good, that’s what’s wrong. I’m tired as well, very tired. I don’t want this soup, and I don’t want to hear about your meeting, I just want to go home and go to bed.’
‘Well, let me finish mine and we’ll go.’
‘No, Matt, I want to go home to my own bed, OK? In my flat. You just take your time. Enjoy your soup.’
She would have enjoyed it if it hadn’t been so serious. She couldn’t remember when she last stood up to him like that.
‘Eliza, what on earth was that about last night?’
Eliza glared into the phone, heard her voice icy cool.
‘It was about me being sick of you never wanting to talk about what I want to talk about.’
‘But I told you what to do about your flat. We talked about that first.’
‘I know. But – don’t you think there might be something else here?’
‘Like what?’
‘Well – maybe, about us – well, about the – the—’ Her courage was failing her. This was not a conversation she should be having. Well, not initiating.
‘The what, Eliza?’
‘You really can’t think what?’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘Then I think you should just try a bit harder, OK? Call me when you’ve got a suggestion.’
‘Eliza, hello, it’s Matt. Look, I think I know what you’re on about. It’s getting a flat together, isn’t it?’
‘It – could be. Well done, Matt.’
‘Yes, it was Scarlett who made me see it.’
‘Scarlett?’
‘Yes. I talked to her about it, about how you were upset and I didn’t know why and she said maybe it was that.’
‘Oh, I see. You didn’t work that out for yourself.’
‘Well, no. Anyway, I just don’t think it’s a good idea, not yet. Maybe in another few months or so. Thing is, I’m so busy and I haven’t got the time to look at places and I can’t see why it’s not OK how we are. I mean, there isn’t a rush, is there, and we’re still feeling our way really and—’
‘Just fuck off, Matt, will you? I’d hate you to be late for whatever meeting you’re supposed to be in.’
She put down the phone and burst into tears.
‘Mrs Munroe, I – well, I hope I didn’t misunderstand something you said to me.’
‘And what was that?’ Alison Munroe smiled at her; it was a warm, encouraging smile. ‘Try me.’
‘Well, you said if I wanted to talk anything over with you, then you would be happy to help.’
‘Go ahead. I’ll try.’
‘Well – well, you see the thing is—’ God, this was so hard. So, so hard. When she didn’t know what she wanted herself.
‘Yes? What is the thing?’
‘Well – I – oh, dear, sorry—’
Alison Munroe passed her a tissue.
‘That’s quite all right. Pregnancy makes one very emotional. I should know, I’ve had four.’
‘Four children! And – and you went on working?’
‘I did. With great difficulty.’ She smiled again. ‘But, you know, you can do anything if you want it enough.’
‘How – I mean was – was your husband happy about all that?’
‘Oh, yes. As long as it didn’t interfere with his much more important career, I could do what I liked with mine. He’s a barrister,’ she added, with a slightly cooler smile.
‘Yes. Well, that’s very comforting. I suppose you must have had lots of nannies and so on.’
‘Oh, yes. Expensive of course, but I thought it was worth it. I love my job and I’d have been a very poor full-time mother. Now then, what about you, what did you want to talk to me about?’
‘Well, you see, my – my boyfriend – I’m not married as you know. I really think he won’t want this baby – I mean, we’re not even living together properly—’
‘Improperly perhaps?’ She smiled again. ‘Sorry, bad joke.’
‘No, no,’ said Eliza, smiling back. ‘Yes, well, my parents would certainly think so. Anyway, he’s going to be totally horrified, I know he is. And I really think – well I – I—’
‘Want a termination?’
‘Yes!’
There. She had said it. She didn’t, of course. She wanted to have the baby – somehow – and keep working – somehow – but she wanted Matt to want it too, and that most certainly wasn’t going to happen.
‘I see. Well, to start with, you know that is illegal, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do. Of course.’
‘Now I happen to belong to the Abortion Law Reform group. I believe that in certain instances – such as rape, risk of health to the mother, either physical or mental, and serious financial hardship, abortion should be legalised. I have had women come to me with a fifth, sixth pregnancy, so desperate they’ll do anything. I’ve been unable to help them and I have to send them away knowing full well they’ll go to some back-street butcher and quite possibly die as a consequence.’
‘Yes. Yes, I see.’
‘So I can’t help you, I’m afraid. And even if the law was changed, I don’t think you would qualify, do you? Not really? I mean, you are young, healthy, well off, you are at least in a relationship, you have a good job, friends, a big family from what I’ve always understood—’
‘Yes, but – but you don’t understand what Matt’s like. He’s – well, he’s very difficult. He just wouldn’t go along with it. And even if I could twist his arm, make him marry me, he’d resent it terribly. It wouldn’t be a good – good start in life for a baby.’
‘Eliza, if you knew how many young women have sat there ove
r the years, saying all this, and then come to see me again, a few weeks later, radiantly happy, you’d be surprised. I’d put it at thousands, certainly hundreds. Now the first thing you have to do is tell your Matt, and yes, I’m quite sure he’ll be very put out. Especially as you’ve been a bit – foolish about contraception. But he’ll come round. Almost certainly. He’ll even, dare I suggest, be quite pleased. Once he’s got over the idea. Men do like to know they’re potent and fertile and all that.’ She didn’t actually say ‘poor things’ but it hung in the air. ‘And do it sooner rather than later, as soon as you can indeed.’
Eliza didn’t say anything; she just sat, looking at her hands.
‘Try to believe me,’ Alison Munroe said, ‘be brave. How about your boss, do you think he’ll be sympathetic?’
‘I absolutely know he won’t,’ said Eliza.
‘Maddy, you don’t know anyone, do you?’
‘Anyone what? Who’s had an abortion? I do, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It sounded hideous. She’s lucky to be alive.’
‘You don’t know anyone who’s had the expensive, nice sort?’
‘I’ll think. Trouble is you can’t ask anyone, can you, there’s just nowhere to go. The quacks know full well they can’t advise you, even if they’re sympathetic like yours. Eliza, please, please won’t you tell Matt? He might be OK about it.’
‘He won’t be. I know him very well. Maddy, he doesn’t want to share a flat with me; how can I expect him to want to share it with me and a baby? Anyway, he hates babies, he’s hardly likely to say “darling, that’s fantastic”. He’s not Jeremy. Not that I’d want to be having a baby with Jeremy, obviously,’ she added hastily.
‘No,’ said Maddy. ‘No, of course not.’
Maddy did come up with someone. A make-up artist she had worked with quite often, who had just had a ‘frightfully expensive operation, you know what I mean, worth every penny though, I have to say, in for just one night, all over next day. You don’t feel a thing.’
Maddy asked her if she could recommend the surgeon for a friend and the girl had laughed and said ‘you bet’, adding that it was funny how it was always a friend. ‘I’ve got the number somewhere—’ She rummaged in her bag. ‘Yes, here we are. Tell her to say Margaret Blake-Smith recommended her. That’s the code. So they know she’s not the police or something. It’ll cost her.’
‘He’ll do it!’ said Eliza. ‘Soon as he’s had my test confirmed. They need to be sure it’s genuine, of course. So – towards the end of next week. He’s got some clinic in Surrey, out Dorking way. Oh, Maddy, thank you so much. I just don’t know what I would have done otherwise.’
‘I just hope it’s the right advice,’ said Maddy gloomily. ‘How – how do you feel about it now?’
‘Oh – just terrifically happy and relieved,’ said Eliza
She certainly wasn’t going to tell Maddy she was having horrible dreams and waking up crying almost every night.
‘Louise, have you got any good flats I can look at? Round Pimlico way. Or even Battersea, if it’s right on the river?’
‘I’ll have a look. What on earth are you looking at flats for? Not thinking of moving, are you?’
‘No, no,’ said Matt hastily, ‘I wouldn’t give up my pad for anything. No, I’ve got a friend who’s moving to London. But it needs to be really nice, two bedrooms at least, maybe three, and a decent kitchen.’
‘Oh, right. Well, I’ll let you know. And you’ll be looking at them for him, will you?’
‘Yes. He lives up in the north; he can’t keep coming down here.’
‘No, course not.’
Pull the other one, Matt. But it was nice; he must really care about her, if he was prepared to move. He loved that place of his.
Well, so far he’d managed to pull the wool over Eliza’s eyes, Matt reflected. God, she must think he was one hell of a shit, believing that rubbish about taking it slowly. It had shaken him a bit; he’d be losing her if he wasn’t careful. And moved fast. He had felt a bit cautious at the very beginning of course; but now, now he just wanted to be with her. He really loved her. No other word for it. Just – love.
‘Mrs Clark? Yes, we have your result and it is positive. So Dr Melrose has asked me to book you in for next Friday. First thing. Please don’t have anything to eat or drink after midnight, and come just with overnight things and a packet of large sanitary towels. You’ll be leaving the following morning. Please arrange for someone to collect you, you won’t be able to drive. And please bring the fee in cash. We don’t take cheques.’
Absurdly, the thought of the sanitary towels was the most upsetting thing.
‘Matt, I’ve got to go down to see Mummy and Daddy next weekend. It’s their – their wedding anniversary and I must be there. I’m going down on Friday night.’
‘Oh, OK, fine. I’m not invited then?’
‘No – not this time Sorry.’
‘This is great, Louise. He’ll like this. Yes, I’ll take it. Well, what I mean is, I’ll tell him he should take it.’
‘Right, fine, OK.’
It was a great flat, in one of the big mansion blocks, right near the river, opposite Battersea Park. A big sunny sitting room, which would take a dining table easily as well, a large kitchen, it needed modernising of course, and two large bedrooms and one tiny one that would do for a study. Eliza would love it. Most important of all, it was empty.
He’d hoped to show it to her that weekend, but she was away. Well, Monday would do. No huge rush. She could go on thinking he was a shit for a couple more days. It would be all the nicer a surprise when she found he wasn’t. Well, not such a big one as she’d thought. He might even do something really romantic, like get some flowers in, put them in a big vase on the sitting-room windowsill, and put some champagne in the antique fridge. That was the sort of thing she’d really appreciate.
‘Eliza, I still think you ought to tell Matt.’
‘Maddy, for God’s sake, shut up about it.’
‘But he might surprise you.’
‘Matt couldn’t surprise me, Maddy. Not if he tried for all eternity. I know him too well. Much too well.’
‘So – do you think you still have a future together?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I hope so. Well, I think I hope so. Oh, I just don’t know.’
‘I think that flat’s for him, Miss Mullan. Him and Miss Clark.’
‘Now what makes you think that, Jenny?’
‘I just do. And I heard him asking her if she was free on Monday evening and then ordering some flowers to be delivered to it. He wouldn’t do that for some man from Yorkshire, would he?’
‘Probably not. Nor from anywhere else. Anyway, it’s to be a complete surprise, Jenny, and even I’m not supposed to know or have guessed, so don’t say anything about it at all, will you?’
‘Of course not, Miss Mullan.’
OK, this time tomorrow it would be over. Just twenty-four hours more to go. It helped that she still felt completely normal. Not sick, at all, not even specially tired. Well, a bit tired. She was obviously a natural at it. At pregnancy. Oh, God, she wished she didn’t keep crying. It was so stupid. If she hadn’t been able to sort things out, then she would really have had something to cry about …
She felt very ambivalent towards Matt; she was finding it hard to act normally. Half the time she thought she hated him, just for putting her through this; then she’d remind herself that he had no idea he was putting her through anything; and then she’d look at him, or he’d say something and she knew she didn’t hate him at all. God, what a mess. And was she going to be able to forgive him? But – it really wasn’t his fault. Or was it? Partly it was, for being such a pig, such a selfish, emotionally retarded, thick-skinned pig. But then she’d known he was all those things ever since she’d met him. Or certainly since she’d begun to get to know him. He was Matt, and she loved him. Was it fair to suddenly expect him to be sweet and tender?
Well, time enough to find out when it
was over. Which it nearly was.
‘Matt, sorry. There’s a hitch on the flat.’
‘Oh, God. What?’
‘Nothing serious, but he won’t take your offer. Wants the asking price.’
‘Oh no. I’ve never paid the asking price for anything. It’s against my religion.’
‘Well, there’s someone else after it.’
‘Yeah, I bet.’
‘Matt, it’s true. I’m the agent, remember?’
‘Ah. Yes. Well – it’s a lot of money. How long have I got?’
‘Well, the bloke’s in a hurry. The other one. And the vendor is obviously going to take the higher offer.’
‘Bloody hell. Well – well, I think I might take another look at it. I’m not going to just lie down on my back with my legs in the air, I’ll see if I can find something wrong, some bargaining point. OK?’
‘Yes, OK, but you’d better get a move on. Like you need to decide today.’
‘All right, all right. I’ll get down there now. Well, this afternoon. That too late? Got to see some money men this morning.’
‘I’ll say I couldn’t get hold of you.’
‘Fine. Thanks, Louise.’
‘Jack, if you don’t mind I’m going to leave a bit early today. I’m looking for locations for the haunted-house feature and I think I might have something. Is that OK? I know you wanted to talk about the summer issues, but this is more urgent.’
‘Yes, course. Right, see you Monday morning. Good luck.’
If he only knew what he was wishing her good luck for.
She tidied her desk for the weekend, asked Milly if there were any calls.
‘Yes, just one, Eliza. From Matt. He wants you to call him.’
‘Matt!’ That was odd. They’d said goodbye that morning. Somehow she couldn’t face ringing him, telling him yet more lies. She’d be so relieved when this was over. So relieved.
‘I can’t speak to him now, Milly. If he calls again, tell him I’ve gone.’
‘Yes, of course. Have a good weekend. Hope you find a house. It’s such a good idea.’
She hoped it was. It was another of her over-ambitious ones, to photograph nightdresses in a supposedly haunted house. The trick would be to double-expose each photograph so that the model would be followed by, or stood beside, or be running away from, what looked like her own ghost. Rick Wilde, the art director, kept saying it was technically very difficult; but she’d talked to Rex and he said it would be a doddle. She decided it was simply because Rick hadn’t had the idea himself.
The Decision Page 30
