Breaking the Chain (31 page)

The afternoon seemed to last a long time. They went for a walk in the park and fed the ducks. Whatever happens, Fay thought, I know I’ve done the right thing by Jack. The child appeared to her to be so much happier. He trotted between herself and Phoebe, swinging from their arms and laughing delightedly. He ran and hid behind trees for them to find him. He played piggy in the middle with a ball and didn’t get cross. He was sleeping better these days and not waking in the mornings until seven, sometimes 7.30, and was invariably dry. He had even said that he was looking forward to going to proper school. Perhaps the damage was already being repaired. Perhaps breaking the chain had worked. When they put him to bed that evening, he insisted that Phoebe should be present at his bathside so he could demonstrate the action of a special diving man toy. Then they had a good splashy game and he went to sleep afterwards with no complaints and none of his customary stalling tactics.

Jack’s getting really fond of you,’ Fay said to Phoebe over supper.

‘I’m really fond of him too,’ Phoebe said. ‘He’s so lively and quick on the uptake. I hope any child I have is half as bright.’

‘Have you decided what you’re going to do?’ Fay asked, taking the plunge.

‘I keep putting off having to think about it,’ Phoebe confessed. ‘After tomorrow, of course, I’ll have to.’

‘I had some ideas,’ Fay said cautiously, ‘but you may think they’re rubbish.’

‘Tell me,’ Phoebe urged. ‘I’m sure I won’t think that.’

Fay braced herself. ‘They cover both eventualities,’ she said, ‘whether you are or whether you aren’t. If you’re
not
pregnant, then I hope you’ll stay and get a job as we planned. If you
are,
then I can see two possibilities. You can still stay and get a job once the baby is old enough, and then you can share Jack’s nanny and contribute to the running of the place from your salary. Or, if you wanted to be a full-time mum, then you could do that here too, and in time you could take on the nanny’s duties – Jack will be at school a lot of the time by then anyway – and save me having to employ her, and so earn your keep that way. It would be lovely for Jack to have a little brother or sister. It would mean security for you and the baby … and, of course, it would be marvellous for me.’

‘Oh Fay,’ Phoebe said, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. ‘That’s so generous of you. I don’t know what to say.’

‘How about “Yes”?’

Phoebe laughed. ‘But what about Duncan?’ she said. ‘He’s the problem. I’m almost sure I don’t want to go back to him, but if I’m pregnant then perhaps I should, for the baby’s sake.’

‘Why?’ asked Fay, bluntly.

‘Well, because … babies need fathers.’

‘Jack is much better off without his father.’

‘Yes, but –’

‘Does Duncan show any signs of wanting to be a father?’

‘Well, no –’

‘And have you considered that the baby might not be Duncan’s child anyway? It might be Herry’s!’ Perhaps this was unfair ammunition, Fay thought, deploying it anyway.

‘Yes,’ Phoebe said. ‘That thought had occurred to me, but Duncan would never know that. I mean, I’ve got brownish eyes too, so it wouldn’t be obvious …’

‘But what if it became clear in later life, and Duncan hadn’t liked having a child around anyway? Wouldn’t he feel cheated then?’

‘I don’t know,’ Phoebe said. ‘I really don’t know.’ She looked agonized.

‘Don’t get upset,’ Fay said soothingly. ‘We’ll sort something out, you’ll see.’ Please, she thought,
please
say you’ll stay. She tried to will Phoebe to agree to do so.

‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Fay,’ Phoebe said, smiling wanly. ‘You’ve been so good to me. The only thing I
do
know is that, whatever happens, I’m never going to commit myself absolutely to anyone again. I’m never going to be emotionally dependent and I’m always going to keep something of myself in reserve; keep my options open. You and Nancy have taught me that.’

Phoebe felt safe at Fay’s, so there was a great temptation for her to stay put. Fighting against this were her feelings of duty towards Duncan and the idea that, although he didn’t seem keen on fatherhood, it would be wrong to rob him of the experience of his own child – if in truth it was his. On the other hand, Fay did seem very keen for her to stay. Phoebe knew she wasn’t just being polite. She wondered why Fay was being so kind. Perhaps she fancied her. That idea didn’t seem so outrageous any more. Now that Phoebe knew Fay so well, she couldn’t think of her as ‘one of them’ in some unmentionable category of perverts. There was nothing strange or queer about her. There was no dividing line between her and any other woman Phoebe had ever come across. Phoebe realized that there was no way she could have ‘known’ about Fay, even had she been ultra-sophisticated and streetwise when she had first met her. Something that Fay once said to her – All humans are to a greater or lesser extent bisexual – began to make more sense. Human beings could not always be grouped into distinct boxes with identifying labels ‘straight’ or ‘gay’. Most people came down firmly on one side or the other. Some didn’t, but they were not to be condemned for this ‘failure’ surely? Love was love, whoever it was you chose.

Once Phoebe had thought this through in her mind, she was able to relax and forget about it. If you didn’t categorize someone, you were better able to accept them for what they really were, admire their good qualities and come to terms with their bad. Phoebe felt very close to Fay. Their minds worked the same way. Talking was so easy. Tonight, though, Phoebe thought, I won’t stay up late nattering.
I’ll have an early night and then I’ll be in a good state to cope with whatever the pregnancy test shows tomorrow morning.

‘I’m off to bed,’ she told Fay. ‘All this uncertainty has worn me out!’

‘Sleep well,’ Fay said. She too looked tense. Phoebe went upstairs to her room and got undressed, putting on her long cotton nightie and then, sitting down at her dressing table, began to rub some cream into her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and tried to imagine herself as a mother. Did she look the part? Frankly no. Her hair was sticking out as usual. Phoebe despaired of ever getting it to go as she wanted. She made a hideous face at herself.

There was a tap at the door and Fay came in, holding a small glass jar.

‘I’ve brought you something to pee in,’ she explained, ‘otherwise you might forget. If you leave this somewhere obvious, then it’ll remind you in the morning.’

‘Thank you,’ Phoebe said. ‘I don’t think I’m likely to forget, but thanks anyway.’

‘Why were you making faces at yourself?’

‘It’s my hair,’ Phoebe said, brushing at it ineffectually. ‘It won’t take orders.’

‘You could get it cut differently,’ Fay suggested. ‘I’ll take you to my hairdresser, she’s brilliant.’

‘Worth a try,’ Phoebe agreed, pushing handfuls of it off her face. ‘Like this perhaps?’

Fay came forward and picked up the hairbrush. ‘Let’s experiment,’ she said. She stood behind Phoebe and began brushing her hair.

‘Aaaaaah,’ Phoebe said, closing her eyes. ‘That’s bliss. Don’t stop.’

‘I think it would look good like this,’ Fay said, holding the hair in position, ‘shorter here at the sides and with more bounce on top.’

‘Mmmmmm.’

‘Open your eyes, you idiot!’ Fay said, laughing. ‘See what I mean?’

Phoebe looked at herself critically. ‘My face is the wrong shape,’ she said.

‘There is nothing wrong with your face,’ Fay said.

‘Nancy had a good-shaped face,’ Phoebe said reflectively, ‘and her hair was the same colour as mine, I think. It said auburn in her passport. Perhaps I could have my hair like hers.’

Fay held the hair back against Phoebe’s head. ‘Too severe and monkish,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t go with your personality.’

‘D’you think Nancy was severe and monkish?’

‘Tough, yes, but not solitary by nature. Has it occurred to you to wonder whether she and Eleanor were lovers?’ Fay went on brushing her hair.

‘No. Why?’

‘It’s just a thought. They were obviously very close. She calls her “my Eleanor” in the diaries.’

‘I suppose it’s quite possible. How sad if so, because she died so early.’ The significance of her remark registered suddenly with Phoebe. ‘Poor Nancy,’ she said, ‘just when she had got herself sorted out and perhaps found someone special to care for. Wasn’t it too cruel of fate?’ She looked up and caught Fay’s eye in the mirror, and seemed to see her as she had never done before, as though the very indirectness of her gaze had a clarifying effect on its object, through the process of reflection. She saw the warmth in Fay’s eyes, and the attentive expression on her face, and felt the gentleness of her hands as they played with her hair. It struck an answering chord deep inside Phoebe, and she voiced her thoughts spontaneously.

‘I couldn’t bear it if you died,’ she said.

‘Oh Phoebe …’ Fay’s eyes were suddenly full of tears.

Phoebe got to her feet and turned in one swift movement, to embrace her. They stood holding each other for a long time before Phoebe let out a long juddering sigh. ‘You feel so little,’ she said. ‘Kiss me,’ Fay said.

Later, Phoebe said in anxious tones, ‘I can’t take my nightie off. I don’t want you to see how fat and horrible I am.’

‘You forget,’ Fay said tenderly, ‘I undressed you that night. I know just what you look like, and I think you’re lovely.’

*

When Fay woke early next morning, she and Phoebe were still entwined. She opened her eyes and stared in absolute contentment at the rays of sunshine cutting through the gap between the rose-coloured curtains and gathering in a pool of light on the foot of the bed. Phoebe stirred in her arms and opened her eyes as well. Their irises were a glowing hazel colour with specks of darker brown pigment scattered through them like the pattern on a bird’s egg. Fay thought that they were quite simply the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. When they had first opened, they looked momentarily startled but then Phoebe had smiled. It’s all right, Fay thought with relief. She doesn’t regret anything. Phoebe turned in the bed until they were looking straight at each other, and then ran her fingers very gently across the skin of Fay’s cheek, over the edge of her jaw and along her neck. Fay held her breath.

‘Promise me you’re immortal,’ Phoebe said.

Phoebe had never known such elation. She felt superhuman, bursting with energy, cherished,
happy.
She couldn’t believe her luck. The world had been transformed overnight and now offered infinite opportunities for optimism. She kissed Fay again and got out of bed to put her nightie on, before Jack came in. Then she went into the bathroom, squatted over the lavatory and urinated with difficulty into the glass jar, catching only the midstream. She held the result up. It looked very concentrated, a dark yellow. She followed carefully the instructions of the kit and left the little test tube in its plastic stand to work its magic undisturbed.

‘Keep your fingers crossed,’ she said to Fay as she got back into bed.

‘I’ve got everything crossed,’ Fay assured her.

Jack bounced in and threw himself happily onto the bed before inserting himself confidently under the duvet between them.

‘Sing ten in a bed,’ he said to Phoebe. They sang it all the
way through three times, then Jack patted Phoebe on the chest and said, ‘You’ve got bigger boozies than Mummy.’

‘Yes,’ Phoebe agreed.

‘Are you going to stay here for ever and ever?’ Jack asked.

‘Well, I’ll have to stay until the summer at least,’ Phoebe said, winking at Fay. ‘Your mum has offered to take me on a boat on the Thames then.’

‘I want you to stay longer than that,’ Jack said. ‘Promise?’

‘I promise,’ Phoebe said solemnly.

‘Is it time yet?’ Fay asked.

Phoebe looked at her watch. ‘Yes. I’m scared to look!’

‘Shall I?’

‘No. I’ll go.’ Phoebe got out of bed, padded across the carpet and entered the bathroom. If there was a brown ring in the test tube, then the test was negative. If there was not, then she was pregnant … Phoebe sent up a silent prayer and looked.

Next minute she was bounding back into the bedroom. ‘There’s NO brown ring!’ she cried. ‘It’s
positive!’

‘Oh, I’m
so
glad,’ Fay said, laughing delightedly. Phoebe was doing a little dance of triumph. Jack joined her, and together they swung round the floor in ever dizzying circles.

The telephone by the bed rang and Fay answered it. ‘It’s for you, Phoebe,’ she said. ‘It’s Duncan.’

‘Oh.’ Phoebe felt quite blank … and giddy. She let go of Jack’s hands and came across to take the receiver. ‘Hello,’ she said, without enthusiasm.

‘Phoebe!’ Duncan said, in tones of relief. ‘I’ve been wanting to ring you for weeks, but somehow I haven’t managed to.’

‘Oh?’

‘Look, Phoebe, it’s time we talked. I’ve got something very important to say to you; something I should have said a long time ago.’

‘Say it now,’ Phoebe said.

‘Well, it’s difficult on the telephone … Couldn’t you come home?’

‘No,’ Phoebe said, ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘Damn it, Phoebe,’ Duncan said, ‘you’re my wife and … and I love you.’

Phoebe gave a little gasp, halfway between a laugh and a sob. ‘I’m sorry, Duncan,’ she said. ‘You’re twelve hours too late.’

For Tim, with love

This electronic edition published in 1959 by Bloomsbury Reader

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Copyright © Maggie Makepeace 1994

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ISBN: 9781448204120
eISBN: 9781448203536