by Maggie Ford
This evening she and Simon were lounging quietly together on the sofa in front of a dying fire. They were glad to have the evening to themselves and were enjoying coffee and brandy after a good dinner and listening to soft music being played on the wireless. Beyond the drawn curtains an October downpour was battering at the window panes but she felt cosy and warm and looking forward to him making love to her when they got to bed.
‘Have you ever thought of having a family?’ she asked tentatively.
Coming out of the blue, the question obviously startled Simon. He sat bolt upright, his gaze instantly full of concern. ‘You aren’t, are you?’ he exclaimed.
She’d have loved to have said yes but merely replied, ‘It’s just, how would you feel if I were?’
She had never expected to see a glow of joy spring to his eyes but what really took her aback was the dull gleam of suspicion that she saw there. She almost cried out: ‘It’s not like that! We took precautions.’ But what would that say of her, heaping degradation upon degradation?
Powerless to say anything, she could only pretend she hadn’t noticed the look as he got up off the sofa, a little too abruptly she thought, muttering something about it having been a long day and that he needed to go to bed.
* * *
Seated at the breakfast table Simon scanned the financial pages of The Times with his usual quiet expectancy.
‘Quite a good few of the shares I’ve been buying have already gone up several points these last couple of weeks,’ he murmured as though talking to himself. ‘Good as investing in bricks and mortar, you can’t go wrong.’
‘Shouldn’t you sell some?’ Julia queried. ‘Reap some of the profit, just in case.’
She still couldn’t get those dreams out of her head.
Simon grimaced. ‘Not when they’re still on their way up.’ There was no gentleness in his reply. He might as well have been addressing a colleague, having not once this morning called her darling. To Julia it felt almost as if a knife were being turned in her flesh.
‘In fact I might take a look at a few more before they go up too,’ he went on, still as if to himself. ‘At this rate I can make a real killing!’
Julia sipped steadily at her cup of tea to allay the misery in her stomach. In front of her a plate of cornflakes remained untouched. She never ate a cooked breakfast though Simon always did. Mrs Allan, who cooked and cleaned for them, always made sure that his plate was full to the brim with fried breakfast food. Julia had often chided him that he ate like a navvy rather than someone educated at Oxford.
She put down her teacup. ‘You invest far too much, darling, far too rashly. Be careful.’
But he merely went on scanning his paper, muttering, ‘I do know what I’m doing.’
‘Are you sure?’ she ventured. ‘What if it all went wrong?’
He looked sharply at her. ‘It all depends on what you think could go wrong.’ Then, as if he had become aware of the connotation and was already regretting his words, his tone mellowed.
‘I can completely rely on my bank to look after my interests and I’ve always been given good advice by them. I’ve been a damned good customer of theirs all these years and they’ve never let me down.’
As he went back to studying the market Julia trickled some milk on to her cornflakes and took a small spoonful. But the cereal tasted like chaff in her mouth. From the time he’d found out about her foolish, if brief, affair, he’d not been the same man. Though he’d said little about it and – as the dramatists would have put it – taken her back, seldom did any term of endearment pass his lips.
Love making too had fallen by the wayside. Since she had mentioned two weeks ago the possibility of being pregnant, which now appeared to be a certainty, any move to cuddle up to him would reap a small kiss and be told it could be dangerous to make love in her condition. But was he thinking of the baby itself or whether in fact it was his? How did one ask such a question as that? She’d even found herself hoping the pregnancy was a false alarm, so that everything could slowly be forgotten. But it had not been forgotten and there seemed nothing to be done.
She needed to pour her heart out to someone. Stephanie would not care and it was unfair to worry Ginny just now. She telephoned James at his bank and he agreed to meet her for lunch at Lyons Corner House.
‘We’re not happy,’ she told him bleakly. ‘I’d be better leaving him. I can’t take much more of the tension that’s come between us.’
James, solid and serious-minded, stirred his coffee at length while all around came the busy chatter of others at lunch. ‘Why should there be any tension?’ he asked finally. ‘You’ve been together for years and now you’re married, you should be ecstatic, so what’s the problem?’
‘I don’t quite know,’ she said, stopping abruptly as a Lyon’s nippy came with the ham sandwiches James had ordered.
‘Yes you do,’ he prompted severely as the waitress departed and Julia realized he’d detected the lie in her tone.
She let the minutes tick by, helping herself to a sandwich merely for something to do while debating whether or not to tell him the truth. But she had to say something, had to own up. After all, she needed help. ‘I suppose it is my fault.’
She broke off, waiting for him to prompt her. When he didn’t, she knew there was no going back.
‘A few months ago,’ she began, ‘I met a face from the past, someone we all knew.’ She was going to have to say it: ‘Chester Morrison.’
She heard James draw in an annoyed breath but hurried on before he could say anything, running quickly through the story of having coffee, meaning to humiliate him, but then forgiving him and beginning to think of him as an old friend. But sooner or later the truth was going to have to come out if she needed his advice.
She continued, telling James how she had begun to meet Chester regularly and how she had begun to find herself becoming a little infatuated with him. Telling her brother how their relationship had begun slowly to develop was the hardest thing she had ever done.
‘I became completed carried away. I think I fell in love all over again – at least I thought I had. Then out of the blue he told me he was going back to his wife. I was shocked. I felt so betrayed that I created a scene there in the street.’
‘You felt betrayed!’ James broke in cruelly. ‘What about Simon?’
Julia fell silent, abashed by the truth. Tears sprang to her eyes. She bit at her lip, trying to stem them. When she finally made herself reply, her voice trembled so that she could hardly say the words that came pouring from her.
‘I know I’m to blame. But Chester and I, we didn’t do anything, I was just drawn to him because Simon and I weren’t married at the time, with no sign of us ever getting married, and I’d got tired of waiting. I just think I was caught on the rebound. I was very low.’
It didn’t matter whether or not there was truth in all she said, only that she needed to say it. ‘I’ve been a fool, I know. But honestly, nothing went on between us, but Simon only sees that I’ve been unfaithful.’
‘But he married you.’
‘I know. I think he only did it because he wanted to make things right. He’s that kind of person. He says he still loves me, but it’s only what he says.’
‘Have you thought that he does truly love you, in spite of what you did?’
‘But it’s not just that, James. I think I might be carrying. If I am it’s Simon’s baby because Chester and I made sure to take…’ She broke off, then finished, ‘We did nothing.’
She saw James compress his lips. ‘It’s the truth!’ she burst out. ‘But Simon’s behaving as if it isn’t; as if it’s not his child, and that’s why I can’t stay with him.’
Her voice fell away and she lowered her head in shame. ‘It’s best I leave,’ she said. ‘But it’s not what I want,’ she added miserably in the same shaky voice, tears now pouring down her cheeks, making fellow customers at lunch glance at her curiously.
James was leaning towards
her, his voice low. ‘Then don’t.’
She looked up to see that he was offering her a handkerchief, which she took to dab furiously at her eyes.
‘Don’t leave him, Sis,’ he was saying, using his old pet name for her in the way he’d done when he was a young lad. This time it wasn’t spoken teasingly. ‘Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face, Julia. If you do you’ll ruin two lives. Promise you’ll hang on to him. He needs you, Sis. He might need you more as time goes on. Say you won’t let him down.’
It was so earnestly said, almost prophetic, that she stared at him before again bowing her head, this time in compliance.
By the time they said goodbye to each other, he had convinced her of the stupidity of letting emotion run away with her. She’d stick to the promise she had made. She even found herself waiting in great anticipation for the beginning of next month when her next period would be due, if it came at all.
Meanwhile there was always work. Whatever her differences with Simon, as partners they still continued their business compatibly enough side by side.
Twenty-Eight
It was all very well for James to counsel her to stick it out. She was trying but how did one stick it out, when there was never any response?
Six weeks now and it was destroying her. To make it worse she had missed her second menstrual period which should have been around the beginning of this month, October. It confirmed her condition. James’s advice was right. How could she leave Simon now?
She sat tense and uneasy in an armchair. Dinner had been cleared away and Simon was lolling on the sofa. There was a time when he would have patted the cushion next to him for her to come and cuddle up to him. It was so obvious that he saw this child she carried as not his. How could she prove to him that it was?
Knowing how foolish she had been tortured her constantly. She yearned to be able to go back and change everything. She started to think that for both their sakes it might after all be best if she did leave. Desperately she tried to will Simon to glance up from his catalogues, but he continued reading, deliberately it seemed cutting himself off from her. Her insides felt as if they were being tied in knots; she had to find a way to bring up the subject of the baby.
She’d tried several times in the past but at the slightest reference to her condition he would change the topic so abruptly that she had no heart to repeat herself. She could read his thoughts almost as if he’d put them into words: ‘I don’t want to know!’
She knew Simon was the father of her baby; she just had to make him believe it. But how? There was only one way to resolve the doubt and that was to have their doctor examine her and hope that he would be able to confirm when she had conceived. The following morning she made an appointment to see him the same day.
‘I’ve made an appointment to see Benjamin Marwood at the surgery,’ she told Simon as soon as they had opened up for the day. Dr Benjamin Marwood was a friend as well as their doctor. ‘It’s at nine thirty. I’ll be gone half an hour.’
She said it in such a brisk tone that he looked up, startled.
‘Why? Aren’t you well?’ he asked anxiously. She was hardly ever ill.
‘I merely need to consult him, that’s all,’ she said and went out leaving him to think what he liked.
In his surgery Marwood washed his hands, dried them carefully, his head half turned towards the screen behind which Julia had gone to tidy herself.
‘Well, Julia, I can confidently say you are going to be a mother come May. I’d like to be the first to congratulate you.’
As she emerged from behind the screen to gather up her hat and handbag, he came and planted a peck on her cheek. Having now discarded his doctor’s white coat, he was again the family friend.
‘I am sure Simon will be over the moon, if he isn’t already. Perhaps we can all go out for dinner to celebrate on Saturday evening, what do you think?’
Julia’s smile was happy and full of relief. ‘That would be nice. I’ll tell him,’ she said, trying to control her emotions. Here was the proof she needed.
She could hardly wait to get back and tell Simon, to take him aside, banish his doubts and fill his heart with joy.
‘Simon, can you spare me a moment?’ she said to him as she came into the boutique. ‘I’ve something important to tell you.’
He’d been talking to someone. Politely excusing himself, he came over to her. ‘Not now, Julia. I’m in the middle of some important business.’
‘This is important too – very important,’ she said. ‘I’ve some good news and I need to talk to you now.’
‘Just one minute then,’ he replied and moved away, leaving her to chafe. She knew it was the wrong time to talk of family affairs but there were some things that took precedence over all else, even business.
It was ten minutes before Simon finally shook hands with the man and courteously showed him out. By this time Julia’s exhilaration had fallen away to be replaced by seething indignation at Simon’s casualness. When he finally turned his attention to her she was in no mood for joy or anything else as he asked how she’d got on at the doctor’s and if she was all right.
‘I’m fine,’ she answered tersely. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. But this is a private matter and I need to talk to you upstairs.’
‘We can’t both leave the shop. A buyer telephoned while you were out. I made an appointment for you to see her at eleven thirty. I hope that’s OK.’
‘I can’t think about that now,’ Julia hissed in low, imperious tones. ‘This won’t take long.’ Turning, she made for the door that connected the shop to their apartments above.
Mystified, he followed her, having told their staff to carry on, that they wouldn’t be long. This presumption annoyed her further.
In the hallway of their apartment, she stopped and turned to him, aware of the anxious pumping of her heart. Most of her joy and spontaneity had disappeared after the delay Simon had caused.
Quickly she related to him what Marwood had told her and waited for his reaction. It was so long coming that for a moment she really thought he still didn’t believed her. She was starting to become angry but managed to contain herself.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ she asked. ‘Benjamin confirmed that I conceived after we were married. The baby’s yours, Simon.’
It was humiliating to have to spell it out like this, and to have him looking at her as if he still didn’t believe her. Yes, she’d been a fool, she who had once condemned Stephanie for the selfsame behaviour. But Simon wasn’t above blame. Too taken up with his business and his investments to pay real attention to her he’d pushed her away from him. How could he doubt her now, when she had irrefutable proof that this baby was his?
‘Did you hear me?’ she repeated, her voice beginning to break down.
She saw him blink. It was like seeing someone coming out of a coma. ‘You mean…’
‘Yes,’ she said as he hesitated, ‘I’m two months pregnant.’
In a second his arms had folded about her and she found herself being pressed against him so tightly that it was difficult to breathe.
‘Oh, God, I’m sorry!’ he was saying. ‘So sorry, the way I’ve behaved. I don’t know what got into me to doubt…’ He was smothering her face with kisses, holding it between his two hands. ‘I’ll never ever forgive myself for the way I’ve behaved. How could I ever have…? My dearest darling!’
Happiness swept over her. And utter amazement too. The way he had behaved? She should be the one begging forgiveness. All her life she would regret the silly episode with Chester, even if it faded from his mind in time. One thing she was sure of though – she didn’t deserve a man like Simon.
* * *
As he read his Financial Times at the breakfast table, Simon became suddenly alert. ‘This looks interesting! The Stock Exchange is showing lots of activity in the new-issues market – could be a good time with this strong sterling – dollar exchange to get in while things are buoyant.’
Julia glanced up from her cornflakes. ‘Be careful, love,’ she said, almost automatically now. ‘You will think before you buy anything, won’t you?’
His wild dealings as she saw them still worried her endlessly though he seemed ever blessed by the Midas touch.
He gave her a patronizing smile. ‘You should know me by now, darling. I always take the advice of my more reliable sources, none of your bucket shop betting!’ he ended with a laugh.
Bucket shops were more like stock market bookmakers; no shares were bought or sold, punters bet on prices only. The Tories had promised to do away with them if they were returned to power in the May General Election, but they had been pipped at the post by Labour, so the bucket shops still operated.
‘I’m just worried that you might get too carried away,’ Julia said. ‘The unemployment rate is still so very high and no one knows when it will ever come down.’
‘But that doesn’t affect us,’ he said, turning back to his newspaper. ‘It’s been high for years, but business is good, shares are good, and I’m thinking of popping into my bank to have a chat with them. I’ve got my eye on one or two quite good-looking investments.’
That the economy remained in a mess didn’t seem to concern him so long as his shares were doing well. What if he did sometimes take too many chances for her liking, borrowing more and more heavily to finance this long-standing obsession with investments? His bank appeared happy enough, even eager to advance him whatever he needed, certain of its returns from which they benefited handsomely.
Nor had the fact that half the nation was living in poverty ever affected their business. They mixed with successful people like themselves, and what if Britain under this new Socialist government was still fighting for economic survival, looking to America to prop up the economy? So far it hadn’t caused Simon problems so why should it worry her? Julia sighed and gave up.
