The Decision

by Penny Vincenzi

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Shaw, but Miss Clark has left.’

  ‘Oh hell, Jenny. Are you sure?’

  ‘Well, that’s what her secretary said.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Shaw. Can I do anything?’

  ‘No. Well – maybe. Look, I’m going out now. If she does ring, can you just tell her to call me in the office. Say I know she’s going to her parents, but this is really important. At around five. No, six. I’ll still be at the flat at five. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Shaw. I’ve written it down.’

  Eliza went down to her car; her overnight bag was in the back. She looked at it and her eyes blurred with tears. Stop it, Eliza, stop being so pathetic.

  She was just driving out through Wandsworth, towards the Kingston by-pass, headed out for Dorking, when she felt a pang of remorse about not ringing Matt. It might be important. His father hadn’t been well. Maybe she should …

  She saw a telephone box, and pulled in.

  Yes, it was worth the asking price. Definitely. He’d like to get a bit off, he’d found evidence of a bit of damp round the bathroom windows, so it was worth a try, but Louise was quite sure he wouldn’t manage it. Well – if he was going to have to go that far beyond his principles, he’d really want to be sure Eliza liked it. And that she was up for moving in with him. She might not be. You never knew with women. They were very perverse. She might say she wanted to go on a bit longer, as they were.

  Well, he’d have to call the chap’s bluff. If Eliza couldn’t see it till Monday, that was all there was to it.

  ‘Jenny? It’s Eliza Clark.’

  ‘Oh – hello, Miss Clark. Yes. Can I help?’

  ‘Mr Shaw rang me about an hour ago. He wanted to speak to me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Clark. He’s not here. He said he knew you were going to your parents, but could you ring him because it was important, and if you did, could you ring again but not at five, because he would still be at the flat at five, but at six here.’

  ‘Right. I see. Well, it’s only half past four, so – what flat, Jenny?’

  ‘The one for his friend in Yorkshire.’

  ‘I’m sorry? What friend in Yorkshire?’

  ‘I really don’t know, Miss Clark. I don’t know any of his friends, and definitely not from Yorkshire. I mean, he doesn’t really have that many friends at all, not really, he’s too busy for that sort of thing—’

  ‘Is Louise there?’

  ‘No, she’s out as well. And so is Mr Simmonds. Well, it is Friday, and he always leaves at four on Friday to go to his fiancée’s house, as she’s Jewish. He is too, of course.’

  ‘Er – yes. Yes, of course. Well – you don’t know anything about this flat, do you? Or where it is?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got the details here. Just a minute. Yes. Flat 6, Prince of Wales Mansions, Battersea. Sought-after location overlooking Battersea Park. One reception, three beds, large kitchen, bathroom, freehold – do you need to know the price because I can’t make out if it’s ten or sixteen thousand, it’s really badly smudged on the roneo but that’s a big difference, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is, yes.’ A strange sensation was filling Eliza. Very strange. She felt light-headed and her heart was thudding rather hard. The telephone box, which had seemed very unpleasant, filthy dirty and smelling of tramp, suddenly seemed to be rather lovely. ‘And – you say, he’ll still be there at five.’

  ‘That’s what he said, and he said to tell you he’d be back here at six. Which I’m sure he will be because he’s always very punctual.’ She hesitated. This was beyond her brief. But then, the article in Honey magazine she’d been reading this morning, about how to get ahead, said you had to use your initiative, and surely since Mr Shaw was going to meet Eliza at the flat on Monday anyway, he would be pleased to see her there now. ‘Um – I don’t know where you are, Miss Clark, but if you’re anywhere near Battersea, you might think about popping into the flat. And then if you miss him, you could come back here for six and see him then. I’ve got some very nice chocolate digestive biscuits in, they’re his favourite. I hope you like them too.’

  ‘I do, Jenny, very much.’ For some reason, Eliza felt her stomach heave. ‘Right, I think that’s a good idea, actually I am quite near Battersea. I’ll head over there now, should only take about ten minutes. Thanks very much indeed.’

  Matt was just slightly disconsolately deciding to leave the flat when there was a ring at the front door. Maybe that was the owner; about bloody time too. He didn’t like being kept waiting; time was money. Clearly Mr Flat 6 had too much of both commodities.

  ‘About bloody time – oh, Eliza. It’s you.’

  ‘You’re so observant, Matt. Yes, it’s me. May I come in?’

  ‘Well – yes, if you like. As a matter of fact I – I did want you to see this anyway.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘I thought I’d get your view on it. Give me your reaction.’

  ‘Well – let’s have a quick look. Mmm, great view. Wonderful fireplace. Grotty old kitchen. But lots of potential. Wonder if the fridge works – oh gosh, there’s a bottle of champagne in it, did you know? Fancy leaving that behind. And two bedrooms – three really. Yes, it’s – not bad. Not bad at all.’

  ‘Only not bad?’

  He was looking as she had hardly ever seen him, anxious, even slightly strained.

  ‘Does it matter what I think of it?’

  ‘Well yes, actually it does. I thought if you liked it, I might buy it. But it’s terribly overpriced and I’ve got to pay the asking price, which really sticks in my craw, and so if you don’t—’

  ‘Matt,’ said Eliza, taking a deep breath, ‘have I got things very wrong, and are you thinking of this flat for the two of us?’

  There was a silence; God, she thought, I’ve got it terribly, terribly wrong, now what do I do, flee down to Dorking …

  ‘Well – well, yes,’ he said, ‘I was – thinking about it. As a matter of fact.’ He sounded almost sulky. She giggled.

  ‘You’re so romantic, you know that? Look, as far as I’m concerned it’s worth more than the asking price. Quite a bit more.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ he said, ‘that’s ridiculous. It is absolutely top of the market, I do know that, and—’

  ‘You wouldn’t make an exception because you thought it might be ideal for us? For us to live in together?’

  ‘Well, it looks like I might have to,’ he said, ‘but I’m not happy about it.’

  ‘Oh, I give up,’ said Eliza, picking up her bag, pulling out her keys, ‘you are just so – so—’

  ‘No, no, don’t go. Please. The thing is, Eliza – the thing is, I would like us to move in together. I can’t think why you thought I didn’t.’

  ‘Possibly because you kept saying you didn’t.’

  ‘I thought you’d see through that.’

  ‘And how was I supposed to see through it?’

  ‘Well – I kept telling you I loved you. I’d have thought that made it pretty plain really, what I wanted.’

  ‘Not terribly.’

  ‘Oh. Well, let me tell you again. I – I have decided I’d like to live with you.’

  ‘What about asking me. It’s normal to ask people if they want to live with you. Not just announce it.’

  ‘But I knew you did.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I could just tell.’

  ‘You could have been telling wrong. Ask me. Go on. Properly. Nicely. And stop looking so cross.’

  He sighed. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous.’ He walked over to the window, turned to face her, scowled. ‘All right. I love you, Eliza. I’d like you to move in with me.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Does that mean yes?’

  ‘No, it means you have to say please.’

  He sighed. ‘Please.’

  There was a long silence; his expression began to change from irritated to anxious.

  Eliza walked towards him and took his hands a
nd kissed him on the mouth, very lightly.

  ‘I would like to live with you, you wretched man. And I love you too. Very much, I can’t think why. But – there’s something I need to tell you and I think I’d better do now it while I’m feeling brave enough and before you sign anything. Um – how would you feel about one of those bedrooms being turned into a nursery?’

  Chapter 25

  Eliza had never seen him so angry.

  ‘You are what?’

  ‘I’m pregnant. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I should bloody well think you’re sorry. After all your fine words. And it’s due when?’

  ‘Um – October-ish.’

  ‘So you’ve known for four bloody months. You had no right to keep it from me. God, I can’t believe it. Bloody outrageous.’

  ‘Jack,’ said Eliza, ‘I’m pregnant. I haven’t committed a crime.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion under the circumstances. I’ve stuck my neck out, given you this chance and this is how you repay me. Well, you needn’t think you’re staying on here. Jesus Christ.’

  He told her to get out; she sat in her office shaking slightly. Milly came in offering tea; Annunciata appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Eliza, I couldn’t help hearing that. I should think the whole office did. It was outrageous. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Yes, well.’ She managed to smile, then suddenly started to cry. ‘Sorry. I’m not really unhappy. It was just a bit of a – a shock. He was so – so brutal.’

  ‘He’s such a bastard. Well, I think it’s wonderful, that you’re having a baby.’ She walked round Eliza’s desk, gave her a hug. ‘Congratulations. Don’t take any notice of him. I’m about to go and give him an earful.’

  ‘Annunciata, please don’t. He’ll think I put you up to it.’

  ‘Oh, no, he won’t. Anyway, he’ll calm down. I can’t think why he’s so angry. It’s nothing to do with him.’

  ‘Well, he thinks it is. Obviously. It is such a shame, because I want to go on working.’

  ‘And you must.’

  ‘No. He’s firing me.’

  ‘Bastard! Well, he can’t do that to you.’

  ‘Unfortunately he can. He’s the editor.’

  ‘Mmm. We’ll see. So anyway, are you going to get married?’

  ‘I am, yes. In a couple of weeks actually. Matt says no son of his is going to be born out of wedlock.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a son, is it?’

  ‘So Matt says. Anything else would be an insult to his virility.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. These men. Eliza, ignore Jack. He’ll get over it. He can’t afford to lose you. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘Jack’s fired me,’ said Eliza, looking tearfully at Matt across his apartment. They had not yet moved into the flat. ‘Isn’t that foul?’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?’

  She stared at him. ‘Why?’

  ‘Eliza, you’re having a baby. You can’t go on working anyway.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Look, there’s no way I’m having you working when you’ve got the baby. You’re not leaving it with nannies.’

  Eliza felt her stomach lurch.

  ‘Of course I’m going to work. Why should I give it up? I love it, it’s really, really important to me.’

  ‘Eliza, that baby is much more important than any job. I want you at home looking after it.’

  ‘You want that? What about me?’

  He looked at her, his face very set.

  ‘It’s not about you. It’s about the baby. For Christ’s sake, it’s not a doll you’ve got in there. It’s a person, a responsibility, and it’s a lot more important than any fucking magazine.’

  ‘I don’t need to be lectured about my responsibilities, thank you,’ said Eliza.

  ‘It rather seems you do.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake. I’m going back to my place. I’m tired.’

  She walked out and slammed the door. As she walked down the track to the road she heard the door open and Matt’s footsteps behind her. He caught her by the shoulders and swung her round. ‘Do you know why you’re tired? It’s because you’re pregnant, you’re having a baby. It seems I have to keep reminding you of that.’

  ‘Oh, stop it,’ said Eliza. ‘You’re just being horrible and hateful and—’ She suddenly burst into tears. She kept doing that; she supposed it was her hormones.

  Matt’s voice changed. ‘Look, come on back in and sit down. I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

  ‘I don’t want a cup of tea.’

  ‘Well all right. I won’t make you a cup of tea. Look Eliza, I’m – I’m sorry.’

  She stared at him. He never said he was sorry. Never. ‘I – I overreacted. I – I love you, Eliza. So much. And I’m over the moon about the baby. You know I am. I just – just sometimes wonder if you are too. Come on, come back in, calm down. I don’t want you getting upset. It might – well, it can’t be good for either of you.’

  She sighed, then put her hand in his.

  ‘OK. Thank you. Could it be hot milk instead of tea?’

  ‘Course. And then if you still want to go home, I’ll drive you.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘no, I’ll stay here. Of course.’

  They didn’t return to the subject of her working.

  It was quite extraordinary, how excited he was about the baby. She was amazed. When she’d told him he’d gone bright red and said, ‘oh, my God,’ and then again, ‘oh, my God,’ and then, ‘that’s bloody amazing.’

  They’d sat down on the bare boards of the flat, and he’d asked her how she knew and if she was sure, and when it was going to be: and he just couldn’t stop smiling. She’d said she was pleased he was so pleased and he said of course he was pleased, he was bloody over the moon.

  He was obsessed by her pregnancy; he’d found a book with some pictures of a baby developing in the womb and kept showing it to her. Did she realise their baby already had a heart, limbs and his sexual organs? That seemed very important to him. Even more important that they were, without question, male sexual organs. A girl child was not even worthy of consideration.

  He had asked her to marry him within an hour of being informed about his prospective fatherhood. ‘Or rather, made an announcement,’ Eliza said, laughing, to Maddy, ‘like he does about all his major decisions. He said no baby of his was to be born a bastard, and there was no time to be lost.’

  ‘So what did you say?’ said Maddy curiously.

  ‘Oh, I just said that would be lovely. I’d already forced him to ask me properly to move in with him, I couldn’t face doing it all again.’

  ‘And – are you really, really happy about it?’

  Eliza stared at her.

  ‘Of course I am. I feel like I’m going to burst I’m so happy. I love him, so, so much. Why do you think I did all this, gave up Jeremy and everything? Honestly, Maddy, that is the strangest question.’

  ‘Well, that’s fine. Sorry. I just wanted to – well to hear it from you …’

  ‘Well – now you have. Anyway, we’re getting married in a month, put it in your diary, nothing big, just the families and best friends, Chelsea Reg, and a party afterwards at the Arethusa. That was my idea,’ she added. ‘I think Matt would have settled for a quick drink in the pub.’

  ‘No he wouldn’t. What are you going to wear?’

  ‘Oh – little dress from Foale and Tuffin. Really sweet. Short and white, but I can’t do the bridal number, not being up the duff and all. Even though I don’t show.’

  ‘And – sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: are your family coming?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Eliza. And burst into the inevitable tears.

  She had taken Matt down to Summercourt to give them the news. For the first and last time in her pregnancy, she was sick that morning.

  They drove down in her Mini: she knew Matt’s new toy, a Lotus Elan, would make her feel even worse.

  Her mother greeted them, smiling ra
ther wanly, telling Matt just a bit too graciously that it was very nice to see him again. ‘Come through, both of you, Daddy’s in the morning room, been having a little nap, he’s been so looking forward to your coming, darling. How are you, you look well.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you. Bit tired, we’re moving, got a flat in Battersea, lovely Victorian mansion block by the river, it’s really super, isn’t it, Matt?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘yeah, it’s great.’

  ‘I’m so glad. Adrian, darling, here they are.’

  ‘Daddy, hello. How are you? You remember Matt?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Expression had largely deserted Adrian’s face; it was the frozen strained look of the Parkinson’s victim that struggled to smile. He held out his shaking hand.

  ‘How do you do?’ he said, in his new, whispery voice. ‘Delighted to meet you again. Heard a lot about you, of course.’

  ‘Nothing too bad I hope,’ said Matt, smiling politely.

  ‘No, no, of course not. Good journey down?’

  ‘Yes, it was really easy, thanks.’

  ‘Er – sherry?’ said Sarah into the silence.

  ‘Or a beer?’ asked Adrian.

  ‘Oh, now you’re talking,’ said Matt, ‘I could murder a beer.’

  Eliza watched him being himself at his best, polite and attentive, while refusing to put on any kind of a show, and thought how much she loved him.

  She saw him taking in the kitchen, every detail of it, the cold, the peeling paint at the windows, the shabby worn rug on the stone floor, the Aga, the huge wooden table, the jugs of dried flowers, the two cats asleep in the big chair. ‘Lovely,’ he said, ‘a real old-fashioned family kitchen. Very, very nice. Can I stand by the stove, I’m absolutely perished.’

  ‘We couldn’t live without our Aga, could we, Eliza?’

  ‘No, Mummy.’

  ‘Do you want a sherry, darling?’

  ‘No, no thank you.’

  Matt was very disapproving when she drank; he said he was sure it couldn’t be good for the baby.