Good Husband Material (35 page)

Perhaps I should accept one of their pressing invitations to antenatal classes, but deep inside, I really don’t want to know.

Bess is behaving very strangely, and keeps trying to get inside cupboards if I leave the door open. Is this the nesting instinct? The puppies are due any minute.

When I got her a lovely big cardboard box instead and padded it out with an old blanket, she immediately dragged the bedding off and jammed herself with it down the gap at the side of the Aga.

She needn’t think I’m going to let her have her puppies in such a narrow space. I wouldn’t be able to see whether she was all right or not.

She growled at me when I put the blanket back in the box. Her nerves must be playing her up.

I know the feeling.

Fergal: November 1999

    
‘WILD CHILD!

    
Nerissa Bright on why Fergal Rocco

    
is the only man for her …’

Exposé
magazine

The girl’s in love with publicity, not me. I’ve come to the conclusion she’ll do or say anything to get in the public eye.

She’s managed to project this image of herself as my long-standing girlfriend, on the strength of a couple of one-night stands and a few photographs of us in the same place at the same time.

Cunning, in its way, and I suppose it diverts any interest from Nutthill and Tish. I’m sick of holding off, waiting for her stupid husband to realise what he’s got now she’s pregnant: the bastard doesn’t deserve her.

And I couldn’t let her struggle with that heavy shopping, could I?

Bess had her puppies last night!

I thought I heard a strange noise around midnight, and came down to find her back in the corner by the Aga, licking something small and wriggly.

I had to get a torch to see what she was doing, and then only had a quick look, because of not wanting to upset her.

There was only the one puppy, but she seemed to be straining a bit. It was all very messy, and Borzois are such a funny shape for giving birth that I called the vet.

He wasn’t too pleased, but I insisted he come and help Bess, and finally he agreed, though it was over an hour until he actually arrived.

By then Bess had pretty well done everything herself, and I felt wrung out.

The vet had a quick look. ‘Just what I thought. No need to call me out, she’s had a perfectly normal delivery and all six are doing well. Funny-looking little blighters! You’ll get my bill, plus call-out charge. Don’t forget – nourishing diet.’

He paused on the threshold and added cheekily, ‘
Both
of you had better have a nourishing diet!’

Perhaps I’ll change to a different vet.

But
– six
puppies! What am I going to do with them?

One thing’s certain – they’re not leaving the kitchen until they’re all house-trained.

Wearily, I erected a sort of little cardboard wall around the Aga out of the rejected box to keep out any draughts, put a drink within Bess’s reach, and finally dragged myself off to bed for what remained of the night.

Bess looked as mentally confused as I felt when I stumbled back downstairs, bleary-eyed, later that morning. Her half-naked, blind brood squirmed around her.

When the doorbell rang I could hardly summon the energy to answer it; someone had filled my bones with lead in the night. My hair was a tangled Medusa snarl, I hadn’t so much as washed my face and was still in my old dressing gown, so of course it had to be Fergal, in a crisp blue linen shirt, looking twice as alive as most people and about twelve times as alive as me.

My recoil and attempt to shut the door were instinctive, but he got past me somehow and raised one eyebrow. ‘I came to take you out driving, but I can see you’re in no fit state. What’s up?’

‘N-nothing! Bess had six puppies last night, and I was up for most of it. I’m just tired – very, very tired.’

I swayed slightly and he removed my grasp from the door knob and shepherded me in. ‘You need to go back to bed.’

‘I can’t – Bess needs seeing to, and Bob will be here soon, and I was going to write a list of shopping for him to get me from Mrs Deakin’s – I’m nearly out of milk – and – and—’

‘Go to bed,’ he ordered firmly. ‘Have you had any breakfast?’

‘No, I’ve only just got up – and anyway, who are you to order me about?’ I protested weakly.

‘Someone has to. Do you want this baby or not?’

I burst into tears. These days I’m the nearest thing to a fountain you’ll see in human form. (OK, semi-human.) ‘Oh yes – yes – I do want it!’ I wailed.

‘Well, then’ he said, exasperated. ‘You’ll have to take more care of yourself. Look, hush now – I didn’t mean to snap at you …’

With his arm around me he guided me upstairs, bending to avoid the low beam as if he’d been there a hundred times before. His crisp blue shirt smelled delicious and so did he.

‘Is this your room? Go on to bed. I’ll feed the dog, and bring you a drink and something to eat.’

‘But you can’t! Why should—’

‘Shut up!’ he said with a thin smile, and vanished.

A few weak tears ran down my face as I sank back against the pillows, but I suppose he’s right about my trying to do too much. Pregnancy does take it out of you.

I must have dozed off, and woke with the sense of time having passed, definitely feeling better.

A fragrant, mouth-watering smell wafted upstairs from the kitchen, along with a low, throaty voice singing softly.

What will Mrs Peach make of this? It will be all round the village and into James’s ears in a flash that Fergal called first thing and stayed all morning … but at least he didn’t call in the evening and stay all night, which
would
have put the cat among the pigeons, even with me in my present gross condition!

Fergal nudged the door open with his elbow and came in carrying a tray.

‘You look better,’ he said judiciously. ‘I looked in earlier, but I thought you needed sleep more than food, so I didn’t disturb you.’

Bess appeared suddenly beside him, cast me a worried, harassed look, and dashed off again in a flurry of fur.

I struggled upright and pushed the hair out of my eyes. ‘Are the puppies all right?’

‘Everything’s all right. I’ve fed the dog, bribed the parrot into silence with a biscuit, told your gardener to do what he likes, got some supplies from Mrs D.’s – and this is lunch.’

He put the tray down on my knees. I’d forgotten he numbered cooking among his many and varied assets.

‘It smells wonderful!’

‘It’s just paella, with a bit of this and that … There wasn’t an awful lot in your kitchen, other than brown rice and lentils.’

‘I’m a bit low – I meant to stock up.’

‘I’ve stocked up. Now, eat this before it gets cold. What do you want to drink?’

‘Orange juice, please. I seem to have gone off coffee, even the coffee-substitute I’ve been getting from the health food shop. Mrs Deakin says I should drink Guinness.’

‘The Irish in me would have to agree with that. I don’t see that it would do you any harm, anyway.’

‘But I’m not supposed to drink alcohol.’

‘Eat your lunch before it gets cold. I’m going to make that dog go out into the garden for a few minutes.’

The paella was delicious, with prawns and things in it – which I certainly hadn’t had in the house. I must ask him how much the shopping came to.

I’d put down the tray and was half-nodding off again, when the sound of the front door closing jarred me awake.

James’s voice called, ‘Tish! Tish!’

I closed my eyes and opened them again resignedly. ‘Yes, James – I’m up here.’

His head poked suspiciously round the door. ‘What are you doing in bed at this time of day?’

‘Resting. I was up all night with Bess – she had her puppies.’

‘Oh?’ His eyes darted about the room, and I became anxious to get rid of him before Fergal returned.

‘What do you want, James?’

‘Want? Oh – the commode.’

‘The
commode
?’

‘You never liked it. I could use it in the Shack.’

‘If it means that much to you, take it. But it’s a good piece of furniture and probably worth something now it’s restored.’

‘Yes, and
I
restored it, so it belongs to me.’

‘I see! So, since I restored the house, by the same reckoning that’s mine?’

‘Don’t be stupid! Anyway, I’ll take what I like, and there isn’t anything you can do about it, is there? You’re going to have to watch your step, Tish, because now I’ve had the time to think about it, I’m not convinced this baby really is mine after all. And if not, why should you walk off with the house and everything?’

‘I think you’ve said quite enough!’ Fergal said from behind him, in a voice so cold polar bears would have shivered.

James certainly went Arctic White, and swivelled round, eyes bulging: ‘You! And her – going on about my bit of fun, when all the time the sneaky little bitch was—’

Fergal’s fist made contact with James’s chin with a very satisfying crunch and he hit the floor with a crash that rocked the house.

Fergal hauled him back upright by the collar, stunned and gibbering with rage. But although James is stocky and solid, he’s let himself run to seed (rye, mostly), and Fergal was looking lethal, so discretion took the better part of valour.

Twisting out of Fergal’s grip, he backed away towards the door, fingering the mark on his chin.

‘You’ll be sorry about this!’ he threatened me.

‘Don’t be silly, James. It’s your own fault. You can’t seriously think I’ve been having an affair, and with Fergal, of all people! He’s hardly even been in the same country for months.’

‘But I would, of course, have had no objection otherwise,’ Fergal butted in helpfully.

I ignored him. ‘He only called today to offer to give me some driving practice, which was kind of him, and stayed to look after things while I got some rest.’

‘Yes, very kind!’ sneered James, but I could see his brain cells had started to rub together again. ‘Yes, OK! Sorry! Only what else was I supposed to think?’

‘Almost anything else! I don’t have cheap little affairs like you. I suppose Wendy has been putting these sordid ideas into your head?’

‘Leave Wendy out of it!’ he blustered, and then added spitefully, ‘But if she saw you now, she’d realise how ludicrous the idea was.’

Miserably made aware of how I must look, with no make-up on, my hair all over the place, and wearing my old outsize Snoopy T-shirt (not to mention a mid-section the size of a medium zeppelin), I wished Fergal would hit him again.

‘You should take better care of yourself,’ he added, and Fergal took a hasty step forward and seemed to be about to make my wish come true.

James thought so too, for he turned and vanished at high speed down the steep stairs, banging his head and cursing as he went, and the door slammed after him.

‘Shut the bloody door!’ came Toby’s faint shout from the living room.

‘Delightful!’ Fergal remarked.

‘I’m terribly sorry, Fergal.’

‘What for? Marrying him? I should think you would be, Angel.’

‘No, that you’ve been cast as the villain of the piece.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m used to it.’

‘He’s always been jealous of you.’

‘Has he?’ I was pleased to see that he’d stopped looking quite so ferocious. ‘Perhaps he’s looking for a scapegoat. Think how much better he’d feel about his behaviour if he convinced himself you’d been having an affair, too. But he’s finding it difficult, because you aren’t really the type, are you, Tish? I suppose in London it was a combination of finding out your husband had been unfaithful and drink. You were just looking for comfort, and I was there.’

‘Yes, that was it,’ I agreed (though there was quite a bit of Frustrated Lust in there too, I’m ashamed to say). ‘I – I’m sorry.’

‘Always happy to oblige,’ he said politely.

I think he’s right about the scapegoat bit, though, if only James could convince himself it was true – or let Wendy convince him. I used to think he was a solid rock I could depend on, but now I see he’s just another weak vacillating quicksand of a man.

‘I’m beginning to wish this baby was anyone’s except James’s!’ I said bitterly.

‘Are you? It’s yours – that’s what matters.’ He wandered over to the window, back to me. It’s a very nice back, broad in the shoulders and tapering to narrow hips and long, long legs. ‘Tish …’

‘Mmm?’ I murmured, sinking back onto the pillows.

He turned and gave me a curious smile. ‘Never mind. Look, I’ve got a temporary housekeeper from an agency – Mrs Bell. I’ll tell her to ring you next time she goes to the supermarket and you can give her a list of what you want.’

‘But why should the poor woman do
my
shopping too?’

‘Why not? I’m paying her enough. And I’m not having you carrying heavy bags about – it isn’t good for the baby.’

‘No,’ I agreed. I just couldn’t resent his trying to order me about any more; in fact, weak tears came to my eyes because someone cared about me enough to think of these things.

He wandered over and flicked my cheek carelessly with one finger, smiling. ‘And don’t take what James said to heart, Angel – you look like a ripe peach, good enough to eat!’

He can’t mean it, but it was kind of him to try to make me feel better.

‘I’ll have to go now. Do you think you’ll be all right?’

‘Of course! I’m fine, and I’ve got a book to finish.’

‘Ah yes. I enjoyed
Love Goes West
,’ he said smoothly, and I was so unnerved that I forgot to ask how much my shopping had come to, or even thank him properly.

I hope James isn’t going to turn vindictive about the house and everything after this – but I’m still glad Fergal hit him.

Fergal: December 1999

    
‘GONERIL – SO FAR, SO BAD.

    
The unofficial pictorial history of the band …’

Trendsetter
magazine

It’s stuff like this that tempts me to cancel my subscription to the cuttings agency – except I feel better knowing what’s being said about us, good or bad. (Mostly bad.)