Good Husband Material (47 page)

‘Fool!’ his brother said amiably, his earlier bad mood seeming to have worn off completely. ‘But have you thought of the damage domestic bliss will do to your image? The fans will desert you in droves.’

‘Me!’ exclaimed Carlo. ‘What about—’

A look from Fergal silenced him, so I’ll never know what indiscretions he was about to give away.

The room was transformed, and Carlo was right – it had been fun. But it was getting late, so I gave them a drink out of my modest cache (Guinness, cooking sherry, or Guinness) and left them phoning Maria while I went to change.

I put on The Dress and brushed the Barrett Browning ringlets into loose waves, and by the time I got back downstairs Carlo was nursing the last unclaimed puppy on his knee with a familiar bemused expression on his handsome face.

‘But how on earth will you exercise the thing in London, Carlo?’ Fergal was objecting practically.

‘I live opposite the park, and anyway, we’re going to buy a country cottage.’

‘You’ll need two – one for the dog!’

The puppy had really taken to Carlo and didn’t want to let him go. I had to promise he could take it back with him tomorrow – it
is
almost eight weeks old – and we rescued one of the bigger cartons to transport it in.

Carlo flirted with me so outrageously at dinner that even Fergal had to laugh, and Maria said he should be ashamed of himself, and what would his fiancée say?

She fussed over me so much that on the way home I asked Fergal if she really thought it
was
his baby after all.

‘Of course.’

‘I’m terribly sorry, Fergal!’

‘What for? I’m beginning to feel as if it’s mine, too!’

He was only joking, but it’s true he’s done more for the baby than James has.

Early next morning Carlo called in on his way back to town to collect the puppy, and as we padded out the carton with crumpled paper and an old towel he stunned me by remarking, ‘I’m really glad you and Fergal have got back together again, Tish.’

I sat back on my heels and stared at him. ‘Carlo, we aren’t – we haven’t – got back together like that! We’re just friends, and he’s been so good to me, even though I must have been a nuisance with all my boring problems and the pregnancy and everything. I even caused a quarrel between him and that girl Nerissa he was seeing.’

‘Nerissa?’ he dismissed her with a shrug. ‘She’s nothing – a smokescreen for the gossip columns, if that. And I don’t think he’s bored. Remember how he snapped my head off just for kissing you yesterday?’

I went scarlet. ‘Don’t be silly, Carlo! He was just in a temper about something. He couldn’t possibly think about me that way – especially now!’

‘He loves children, and you know that he wouldn’t let the baby not being his make any difference to him.’

‘No, not if he did feel like that about me … but he doesn’t! You’ve got it wrong.’

Carlo looked unconvinced. ‘It’ll be interesting to see if his lyrics cheer up, now.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘You must have realised that a lot of his songs are about you?’ He sang a few lines of ‘Red-Headed Woman’ in a voice nearly as husky as Fergal’s.

‘No, of course not – I don’t believe you! Besides,’ I added tartly, ‘I haven’t got red hair.’

‘You haven’t listened to the words very closely then.’

‘I haven’t listened at all if I could help it – it was too painful to hear his voice after we split up.’

‘I’ll send you some CDs down – you listen to them!’

‘But even if you’re right about that – which I’m sure you can’t be – you’re quite, quite wrong about his having any feelings for me now except friendship and – and pity.’

‘You’re impossible!’ he said, but he smiled. ‘Come on, let’s get this monster loaded into the car.’

We jammed the box in front of the passenger seat where the puppy could see Carlo. It couldn’t get out, because the sides were too high – just.

He would be all right as long as it didn’t grow on the way there.

I gave him some puppy food, and then Bess and I stood side by side and saw them off. She wagged her tail as the car vanished from sight.

After he’d gone I found it hard to settle to anything. How on earth could Carlo make such a mistake?

And perhaps some of his earlier lyrics
were
about me, which is rather touching, but then – most of the heroes in my books are black-haired, green-eyed men!

It would be strange to think we’d been each other’s muses throughout the years we were apart.

Fergal: February 2000

    
‘THE FROCK THAT’S OUT TO SHOCK

    
Ex-girlfriend of Fergal Rocco reveals almost all

    
at the party of the season.’

Exposé
magazine

Pop isn’t going to like that one, but at least he can’t blame my bad influence this time.

In any case, I hope I’ve always known the difference between the outrageous and the vulgar.

But at least if she is calling herself my ex-girlfriend, she must surely have given up on me.

Carlo came down for a flying visit – I knew he’d guessed what was going on, from one or two things I’d said over Christmas, and was worried about me. And then, stupidly, I felt so jealous when he kissed Tish!

We had a good evening, though, and when I’d taken Tish home again Carlo said he could see how things were with me and he wished me luck. I think I’ll need it …

I don’t know what his fiancée is going to think of that puppy!

Bob was hovering around the garden at the crack of dawn to collect his puppy on the day they were eight weeks old, but I was prepared for him this time. He’d been getting steadily more excited all week.

His face was blissful, and I was deeply touched when he stood up holding his puppy and assured Bess that he would ‘look after ’un proper!’ (Not that she cared.)

Then he vanished with it, and was seen no more for the rest of the day.

Margaret came for hers with a smart, purpose-made cardboard container and stayed for a long chat. I showed her the nursery and she admired the colour scheme, and had a few helpful ideas about what else I needed. Then she asked me if I would help her choose the colour scheme of her nursery later.

‘Wendy’s moved in with James permanently now, so I got Ray to ask him to leave as soon as possible. She wouldn’t look so smug if she knew how often James has been seen about with that Nerissa.’

‘What one earth does Nerissa see in him?’ I exclaimed.

‘Well, he’s rather attractive,’ Margaret mused, to my amazement. ‘You must have thought so yourself at one time.’

‘I suppose so. And his being older than me didn’t seem to matter at first. But Nerissa is very young. He could almost be her father – or Wendy’s!’

I could see there was something else she was concealing, and after a bit of pumping she told me that the entire village was now watching me and Fergal with the sort of acute interest normally only accorded to the TV soaps. They’re practically taking bets on the father of the Incubus since James aired his doubts in the pub one night while under the influence, the creep.

‘Just because Fergal is sorry for me, and helping me for old times’ sake, it doesn’t make him the father of my child. He’s a good friend and nothing more.’ (Unfortunately.)

‘Is he?’ she said doubtfully. ‘It’s just that you hear such terrible stories about him – though he could have reformed, couldn’t he?’

‘You can’t believe everything you see in the press!’

‘No … I suppose not. Did he really – you know – that time in Rome, with the six nuns and—’

‘No!’ I said shortly.

‘Oh?’ she sounded disappointed.

We got on to the subject of driving tests, and she said to immediately put in for a re-test if I failed first time, because she passed on her fifth, having worn them down by persistence. Then she staggered off down the drive, listing to starboard, with the puppy in its carrier.

Later, Mrs Deakin and Dulcie Blacklock came together to collect their puppies: mutual support, I suppose. Suddenly the kitchen looked quite empty.

Bess kept staring at the last puppy as if hoping
it
would vanish, too.

Fergal came to dinner, and I did wholewheat pasta with a seafood sauce from the freezer, care of Maria, which must have made it home from home except for the pasta being darker.

After Carlo’s remarks I felt a bit shy at first even though I know he’s got it wrong, but the feeling soon wore off. Afterwards Fergal washed up while I put my feet up (under protest – I’d hardly been slaving over a hot stove for hours). Then he asked if he could do some drawings of me and we sat there peacefully for an hour or so, exchanging the odd word. It was very comfortable … companionable, even.

Later I distracted Bess with a biscuit while Fergal removed the last puppy.

I needn’t have bothered, really, because Bess thought it was a fair exchange, and didn’t even look for it when I let her out again.

Tomorrow I’m going to give that corner by the Aga a jolly good clean-out.

After I’d finished disinfecting the kitchen I phoned Mother on impulse and told her I’d discovered that her sister, Glenda, was my real mother. I thought the initial approach might be easier by phone.

There was a small, stunned silence, and then she quavered, ‘Don’t be silly, darling. Of course I’m your real mummy!’

‘But, Mother—’

‘It’s so upsetting when you say this sort of thing, Leticia, and I don’t want to hear any more about it,’ she said repressively.

‘Mother, I don’t want to upset you, but I need to know. Couldn’t we just talk about it?’

‘I absolutely refuse to discuss the topic further!’ she said, hysteria in her voice.

I sighed. ‘All right – but do you know where Glenda’s living now? It would be nice to get in touch with my only aunt.’ (My giddy aunt? My mad mother?)

‘No. We washed our hands of her. She was never any good. It broke Father’s heart when she ran away like that, and drove him to an early death.’

‘I always thought he was an alcoholic, and that was why you—’

‘Broken heart!’ she screeched, and began to sob gustily. ‘If you loved me you wouldn’t go upsetting me by raking all this up now!’

I had a feeling she did know where Glenda was, but wasn’t going to tell me. I spent some time soothing her down.

I expect Mr Rooney will find Glenda.

I’ve had a solid week of driving lessons and am too shattered to think straight! Fergal has taken me out driving practically every morning, too.

The only diversion has been the reports coming in from the Devil Puppy Owners’ Club suggesting they’re literally eating their new homes, so I was interested in hearing that Margaret’s vet had advised her to buy a sort of giant cage in which to incarcerate the little horror when necessary. Apparently this helps with house-training too, since you line it with white fleece, and they don’t soil their bedding.

I immediately spread the news of this discovery to the other owners. Fergal said Carlo’s fiancée would be eternally grateful, and Maria had insisted he go out and purchase one of these things immediately.

On the day of the test I woke with the words Mirror, Signal, Manoeuvre on my lips (and Bess, blissfully puppyless, on the bed beside me).

Mrs Blacklock gave me a quick pep talk, then left me in the clutches of a short, bearded, morose man with a clipboard. He remained steadfastly monosyllabic all the way through, which had the unfortunate effect of making me babble like an idiot.

At one point a squirrel ran across the road and I said idiotically, ‘Oh, look! Isn’t it sweet? Do you think that’s a lucky omen?’ But he just scowled down at his clipboard and scribbled something. Probably, ‘This woman is a moron.’

But as far as I could see I hadn’t done anything wrong at all, even the three-point turn and the hill start went perfectly, and I didn’t go over the kerb when I reversed.

So I felt quite confident at the end, my spirits rising as he put the lid back on the pen. It was quite a shock when he calmly said, ‘I’m afraid you haven’t reached test standard yet, Mrs Drew.’

‘Ms,’ I corrected automatically, but most of the rest of what he was saying was lost in the despair. If I failed when I did everything right, how was I ever to pass?

Mrs Blacklock slid in beside me after he’d gone and handed me a tissue. Apparently he’s a misogynistic martinet.

He should be put against a wall, hung with nuts, and have squirrels fired at him.

The official reasons for my failure are that I went too slowly and over-cautiously at junctions, and also too fast and incautiously at junctions. And I didn’t use the mirror enough.

‘But I did!’ I wailed.

‘Then you must turn your head more.’ She demonstrated, looking as if she was watching tennis. Then she made me post off my next test application on the way home.

‘But I’ll never get one before the baby arrives!’

‘You often get cancellations at short notice and the baby’s not due till April, is it? You’ll make it – I always get my drivers through. The longest they’ve had to wait is the third test, and she was so nervous she needed Valium before the driving lessons.’

This cheered me a bit.

Margaret phoned to see what happened, commiserated, then told me by way of distraction that James is pleading to be allowed to stay in the flat until he and Wendy can move into the new house that Wendy’s father is buying.

‘So it looks like he’s being forced into the marriage, doesn’t it? But he’s staying out more and more, and we can hear them arguing at night. Do you know, Wendy looks very pregnant already, and fed up.’

‘Perhaps she’s the type who bloats out immediately.’

‘Perhaps. Her sister, Alice, and that Howard came round the other day. Aren’t they peculiar? Howard is creepy!’

‘Never mind, you’ll never have to see them again once James is out of your flat.’

‘The sooner the better, really. I want to get it knocked through and converted into a nursery.’

The second I’d put the phone down after that conversation it rang again, with Fergal this time.

He said I’m a good driver and will pass next time, but I could only just hear him over the strange background noise, which he said was the puppy trying to play with the kitten, who was a bit reluctant. Maria thought the puppy was adorable, but needed feeding up, so it was probably shortly going to be spherical, with cosmopolitan food tastes.