‘He’s always out.’
‘What?’ She stared at Rosie.
‘With his girlfriend.’
‘Girlfriend?’
Daisy said. ‘They took us to McDonald’s. She ponged.’
‘What of?’
‘Perfume,’ Daisy yowled. ‘Ugh. Smelly Ellie!’
Both girls started chanting ‘Smelly Ellie!’
The next day Ann rang Ollie at work but he wouldn’t speak, except to say that he knew he was behaving badly but Viv didn’t want him, she never had, she’d finally achieved her ambition and made him redundant. He sounded belligerent and drunk.
Phoning Viv was harder. Despising herself, she put it off until the next week. It was a great deal easier to manage a building society than to dial that familiar number.
‘I didn’t know about Ollie,’ she said at last. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Come round to lunch,’ said Viv. ‘We must talk.’
‘Can you manage? Shall we have lunch here?’
‘Of course I can manage,’ said Viv.
Ann put down the phone. They had arranged it for Saturday. Ken, she knew, would be coaching the Youth Club team, so he wouldn’t know where she was. At times she thought of the man in the car, and wondered why she only felt the smallest tweak of guilt.
Ollie had now taken to spending some nights with Ellie, and had gradually changed into almost a visitor at his own home. He was not at the ringing-bell stage, but he did hesitate upon the doorstep. When crises strike there are those who confront and those who escape, and it will only take a crisis to reveal them. At university he had been heavily into drugs, releasing himself into heightened oblivion. Not blurry – people thought that who’d never taken them – but sharper. He knew he was weak, but that didn’t make him feel any better.
He was no longer presumed to be in on a Saturday, just ‘mucking about’, as the girls put it – reading Private Eye, getting his dry-cleaning, attempting perhaps yet again to find the bits for their Scalextric. Now he was inclined to take them out for treats. Though the household knew about Ellie, the official reason for his absence was that he was trying to get to grips with his novel, an explanation that the girls seemed to accept with the surprising sang froid of the young.
On Saturday he came to the house and the girls leapt up like puppies.
‘Take us to Hamley’s,’ they said. ‘You promised.’ They had always been mercenary, but recently – either from circumstance or natural development – they had become worse.
‘I thought Windsor Safari Park.’ He eyed Viv, who stood at the liquidizer. The table was laid for two.
They started whining. ‘We went there last time.’
‘This time we’ll bribe a monkey to sit on our bonnet.’ Viv passed him the car keys; the girls ran outside. He looked at the table, raising his eyebrows. ‘What’s all this in aid of?’
She pushed the liquidizer. It whirred. He waited.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Our Kenneth coming to lunch?’
She paused. Sunlight slanted through the window. Her skin was pale and sheeny. ‘You’d like that,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t you? Salve your conscience.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Ollie.’ She rested against the kitchen unit. ‘I need no longer tell you who it is. It is no longer your business. My gazpacho belongs to me and whoever I decide to share it with.’
‘Look, I –’
‘It’s Ann.’
‘Ann?’
She poured the pink liquid into two bowls and started chopping up parsley. She didn’t look up. ‘You might prefer me to have an adulterous little déjeuner à deux, but I’m actually having lunch with my sister.’ She spoke with the clipped tones in which he pictured her addressing an errant fourth-former. ‘Just one thing,’ she went on, scraping the knife across the board and pushing the parsley on to the bowls. ‘Are you going to be in tonight? Where’re you going to rest your troubled little head, in the study or in your love-nest in that delightfully soignée locale known as Crouch End?’
‘Shut up.’
She sighed. The sunlight touched her shiny face. ‘You may be finding yourself, or paying me back, or suffering the male menopause, or whatever it is you’re doing, but there’s one thing I’d like you to realize.’
‘What?’
‘Life has to go on. I don’t mean this,’ she pointed to her stomach. ‘This is going on whatever us stupid fuckers are doing. What I mean is . . .’ She paused. She spoke with the precision of a prepared speech. This made him feel more guilty. ‘What I mean is, while you’re out there finding true love, there are children to be looked after, washing to be done, hamsters to be cleaned out, car to be MOT’d, milkman to be paid, dentist to be gone to –’
‘Affairs to be had?’
‘Oh go on!’ She spat the words out. ‘Go to your funfair, play around with your silly little girlfriend; you’re just a child.’
He paused at the door, the car keys hanging from his finger. ‘I’m certainly not a man,’ he said theatrically. ‘You’ve seen to that.’
He pocketed the keys and went off to his monkeys.
Ten minutes later there was a ring at the door. For a mad moment Viv thought it was Ollie, transformed into a gentleman caller who would woo her afresh. But it was her mother.
‘You’re looking peaky,’ she said. ‘You weren’t like this with the others.’
‘I know,’ said Viv.
‘Still, this one’s different, isn’t it?’ She looked around. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘Er, they’ve just popped out,’ Viv lied. ‘Shopping.’
‘Thought I’d see how you were. Must go back in a moment, I’m up to me eyes.’
‘At the salon?’
Viv shifted from one foot to the other, willing her mother to leave. It was one o’clock.
‘Oh look,’ said Irene, inspecting the table. She smiled. ‘Told you it’d be all right, didn’t I?’
‘What?’
‘Knew you were a softie at heart.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just you and Ollie, is it? You usually forget.’
‘What?’ asked Viv.
‘Your wedding anniversary.’
There was a pause. Viv realized the date. ‘Ah,’ she said.
‘Fourteen years,’ said her mother. She pinched Viv’s cheek. ‘So underneath those dungarees there beats a heart.’
‘Two hearts, actually.’
Her mother laughed. ‘What about the kids?’
‘What?’
‘Oh, little garnishes too.’ She popped an olive into her mouth. ‘You celebrating tonight? Want me to take them off your hands?’
‘No really –’
‘All right, be like that.’
‘I don’t mean –’
‘Won’t come often, that sort of offer,’ she said. ‘Not from me, anyway. Probably will from Vera. It’s called sucking up to your step-daughter. She’ll be taking out the kids and stuffing them with sack-whatsit –’
‘Sachertorte.’
‘She’ll be giving him a heart attack.’ She paused. ‘Still perhaps he’ll die happy.’ She stood up to go. ‘Men,’ she said. Her friend Frank was gay. ‘All men want is chocolate cake and no questions.’
A few minutes later Ann arrived. Because she had seen her so seldom, it still gave Viv a shock to see her new haircut. Shorn, her sister carried herself with poise.
She took a summer pudding out of the carrier-bag. ‘Hope it’s OK,’ she said. ‘Haven’t made one of these for ages. Don’t seem to bother with puddings nowadays.’
Viv uncorked the wine and poured her a glass.
‘Thanks,’ said Ann. They were as polite as if they had just met.
Viv sat down. ‘How’s work?’
‘I can’t switch it off.’ Ann sat down. ‘I bring it home with me.’
‘How awful.’
‘It’s not.’
‘What?’
‘I wouldn’t bring it home
if it was awful.’
‘No.’
Ann said: ‘I like facts and figures.’
They sipped their wine. Never before had Viv longed so much for a cigarette; she had an emergency packet, but she didn’t like to bring it out in front of sister.
‘How’re you feeling?’ asked Ann.
‘Fine.’
There was a pause. Viv got up to fetch the bread. At the dresser she turned. ‘You really want to know?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tired and aching and bloody terrible. Only stopped throwing up last week. I always thought other people were being pathetic when they described their pregnancies.’
‘Have you seen a doctor?’
Viv shook her head.
‘Never had the time.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Look,’ said Viv. ‘It’s my business.’
‘Is it?’ asked Ann.
Viv looked at her. ‘Isn’t it?’ There was a pause. Then she said: ‘I presume it is, as you’ve gone and got yourself promoted.’
‘Can’t you see why?’ said Ann loudly.
Viv didn’t answer.
‘Do sit down,’ said Ann. ‘You’ve made this lovely food.’
Viv moved towards the table and sat down. Ann watched her. They dipped their spoons into the soup.
‘Just shows,’ said Viv. ‘One can’t count on anything.’
‘I used to think I could,’ said Ann.
‘Me too.’
Ann paused and put down her spoon. ‘I used to think I could count on Ken.’
Viv looked up and stared at her. ‘I’m not seeing him.’
‘Wish I could believe you. Wish I could believe anything.’
‘It’s true! I’ve spoken to him a couple of times on the phone, that’s all.’
Ann tore off a piece of bread. ‘Funny, isn’t it then, that he’s always out.’
‘Frightfully funny, but it’s nothing to do with me,’ said Viv. ‘I’ve been busy being sick.’
Seconds ticked by. There was no sound, except a rustle from the cage as the hamster turned in his sleep. Ann glanced up. She had the look she wore when she was a child – the creased brow, the cloudy eyes as she struggled with her own distrust. The world tricking her, as Viv used to do for fun. As her parents had done in earnest. When she discovered about her father she had said to Viv: They’ve taken away my childhood.
‘Believe me,’ urged Viv. ‘God knows, we’re all in a mess. At least we can get that bit straight.’
She didn’t move. They were sitting opposite each other, the wine bottle between them. Then Ann’s face cleared. Magically – as if her features melted – she smiled. Then she started to laugh.
Across the table Viv started laughing too, with a squeaky edge of hysteria. They both laughed until they felt emptied. Finally they simply sat there, limp, shaken by a few residual sobs. Viv leant over, took Ann’s glass and filled it with wine.
‘So do shut up,’ she said. ‘And get sloshed.’
There was a thunderstorm in the night. The next day the streets were fresh and the rubbish sluiced away. Along Viv’s road the cars sparkled. She came out of the newsagent’s with the girls. All three of them were sucking ice lollies. She felt better than she had done for weeks.
As they walked up the hill towards Highgate, they met Douglas and Vera, who were window-shopping in the Holloway Road.
‘Dad!’ she called. ‘I was coming to see you. I’ve got an idea.’
‘One of your mad ones?’ he asked.
She threw her lolly stick into the gutter. ‘The wedding, next month. Is it too late to cancel it?’
Her father stared. ‘What?’
‘Cancel the hotel reception and have it at my house?’
‘Your house?’ asked Vera. She looked bronzed and startled.
Viv nodded. ‘I want to give you a party.’
‘Well, well,’ said her father. ‘That would be nice.’
‘You could manage?’ asked Vera. ‘What about Ollie?’
Viv shifted to the other foot. ‘Oh, he’ll like it too.’
Viv always thought her clearest on the allotment. The windy spaces blew away her doubts; the cabbages, leathery and grey, were her multitude of supporters. Her jumbled home dwindled; stopping her car, with a scrunch, on the cinder parking-place, she felt simpler and lighter.
She had had no doubts that urgent day when she had stood in the hut with Ken, telling him it could be done. Nor that day, weeks before, when she had straddled the earth and smelt the soup and felt capable of anything.
It was on the Tuesday, after school, that she finally decided it was time to tell the children. Now she was happier about Ann, there was no point in delaying it. She was watering the rows of plants; the spray sparkled in an arc. She raised the hose and watched the mist leap against the sky, and then somebody was tugging at her skirt.
‘I’m bored,’ said Daisy.
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘I want to go to Windsor Safari Park.’
‘You’ve just been. Why don’t you play with your teddies?’
‘They’re asleep.’
‘My teddies never slept.’ She had finished watering. She dragged the hose back to the tap, watching the water leak into the ground, and turned off the current. The girls were hanging around at the door of the hut.
She said: ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘I want some crisps.’
‘Listen. I’m going to have a baby.’
They stared at her. ‘A real one?’ asked Rosie.
‘Hope so. Now listen.’ She squatted down. They stood in front of her. ‘I always try to tell you the truth, to treat you as proper people. So listen carefully.’ She paused, looking at their faces. Daisy was picking at some mud on her knee. ‘You know that Ann can’t have children and how that makes her sad?’ They looked at her, their faces blank. ‘Well, I’m going to give her this baby.’
‘When?’ asked Rosie. ‘Now?’
‘When it’s born. So she can have a baby to bring up, that’ll make her as happy as you make me.’
‘But you’re always shouting at us,’ said Daisy.
Viv ignored this. ‘What you must understand is that it’s not as if we’ll be giving the baby away and never seeing it again. It’ll be part of the family. One big family. Isn’t that marvellous?’
They gazed at her. Daisy scuffed at a small ridge of earth. ‘Where’ll it live?’ asked Rosie.
‘With Ken and Ann.’
‘In their house?’
‘Yes.’
‘They’ll make it wash its hands before tea,’ said Rosie.
‘Quite right too,’ said Viv.
‘They’re all strict.’
‘Listen,’ said Viv. ‘It’s all going to be wonderful. But don’t tell anyone yet. Anyone. It’s our secret. Ann and I made up our minds properly on Saturday, when you were at Windsor Safari Park.’
Daisy wailed: ‘I want to go to Windsor Safari Park!’
‘Oh shut up,’ said Viv.
‘If we go home now,’ said Daisy, ‘will you buy us a Cornetto!’
Viv sighed and climbed to her feet. She thought of all the agonizing the four of them had gone through, thinking of this moment. She thought of something Ollie used to quote to her: Adults are deteriorated children, and she wondered: are they? Sometimes adults seemed rather more sensitive. She rolled up the hose and considered the sang froid of the young.
It was the last day of the summer term. In the staffroom a few teachers were still packing up. Madeleine took a card off the noticeboard.
‘Nobody wants my yoghurt maker.’ She took off another card. ‘Nobody wants my kittens.’
Harold said: ‘Try again in September.’
‘They’ll be having kittens of their own by then.’
‘Ah,’ sighed Harold. ‘These whirlwind holiday romances.’
Madeleine laughed and went to the door.
‘You patched it up with Dave?’ Viv asked he
r.
She nodded. ‘We’re going on a walking holiday in Cornwall.’
‘Don’t get corns,’ said Harold.
‘Corny,’ groaned Viv.
‘Trouble with holidays,’ said Harold, ‘you need a holiday to recover.’
Madeleine asked him: ‘You’re going to that caravan park again?’
‘Please. Leisure Centre.’ He nodded. ‘Once again I’ll be staying in a blot on the landscape.’
‘Bye,’ said Madeleine. ‘See you next year.’
‘She left. Harold and Viv were alone. He was ready to go, but she seemed to be waiting for something. He asked her: ‘You still don’t know where you’re going?’
‘Nope.’
‘That’s what I like about you.’
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Impulsive. I should live like you, never planning –’
‘I do plan!’ she said abruptly.
He put down his bag of books. ‘Sure you’re OK?’ She nodded.
‘I’ve been worried about you.’
‘I know,’ she said.
‘Where’s the old Viv? I need her.’
‘Why?’
‘For her dirty limericks. I’m letting the side down in the pub.’
Suddenly she embraced him.
‘Mmmm . . .’ he murmured.
‘What?’
‘Something to get my arms around.’
She struggled free, awkwardly.
‘No, it’s nice,’ he said. ‘You feel quite womanly.’
‘You like them fat?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone light.
‘I don’t have a lot of choice.’ He sighed, and reached for his carry-all. His large, leathery face looked tired.
She said: ‘You’ve meant a lot to me this term.’
‘I try to oblige.’
She paused. ‘Will you do something for me?’
‘That depends.’
She asked: ‘Will you forgive me?’
‘For what?’
She spoke seriously. ‘For not treating you like a friend?’
He frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Nothing.’
Suddenly she hugged him again, to hell with her size. At that moment the door opened and Alan came in.
‘Whoops,’ said Harold. ‘Caught again.’ He released Viv. ‘Just some departmental negotiation.’ He kissed Viv on the cheek. ‘You look after yourself,’ he said, and left.
To Have and to Hold Page 20
