The Would-Begetter (23 page)

‘Mmmmm,’ Hector said. ‘Hardly surprising, poor child. Anyway, enough of that. You haven’t drunk your champagne. Let me top you up, and then… who knows what we might do next, eh?’ He smiled at her, a wonderfully open, confiding,
sexy
smile, but Jess felt uncomfortably constrained. What were his real motives? Could it be that having become dissatisfied with Morgan and finding Hannah unavailable to him, he was still out to beget the perfect child…?

‘No, Hector,’ she said slowly. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Saw
an old friend of yours in Court this morning,’ Barry called to Hector across the desks in the Newsroom.

‘I doubt that,’ Hector said, without looking up from his computer.

‘No, straight up. It’d be hard to forget a name like hers, and I’m sure you haven’t. Zillah Brakespear ring a bell, does it?’

Hector looked up sharply. ‘What about her?’

‘She was in Juvenile Court with her son. Blimey, if ever I’ve seen a cheeky young thug in the making, it’s him.’

‘What? Surely not Christian?’

‘Nah. He had some really pansy, flowery name. Didn’t suit him at all.’

‘Florian?’

‘That’s it. Little devil got let off with a talking-to, because in spite of being big for his age, he is only seven and it was a first offence. He wants to watch it though, next time he’ll be slung into care. I just hope my kids…’

‘But what did he do?’ interrupted Hector. He could feel his heart pounding with anxiety.

‘Oh, nothing evil, just a spot of TWOC-ing.’

‘What?’

‘Taking Without Owner’s Consent. He nicked a car, went for a spin, and was seen dumping it. Not a scratch on it – pretty clever actually – I’m amazed he could reach the pedals. If he hadn’t been so conspicuous he’d probably have got away with it, but all that red hair is a dead liability.’

‘Was his father in Court?’

‘No. They’ve split up. She said she had no idea where he was. They weren’t married anyway, which explains a lot.’

‘Hardly worth writing a report on, surely?’ Hector said, trying to appear casual.

‘What d’you mean? It’s my best story this month!’ Barry protested. ‘Can’t identify the brat of course, since he’s well under age. Great pity, that. Names make all the difference. Anyway, I just thought you’d be interested.’

‘Mmmmm,’ Hector said, trying to appear indifferent. He finished typing the story he was on as quickly as he could, and then dropped it into Nigel’s basket.

‘Any chance of the rest of the afternoon off?’ he enquired, ‘for personal reasons.’

‘Is Wendy all right?’ Nigel asked at once.

‘Well, yes and no. It’s only three days since her operation, and you know how it is… I just thought…’

‘You go,’ Nigel said generously. ‘We’ll manage. Never let it be said…’

‘Thanks Nige.’

Hector drove the Jaguar as fast as he could to Zillah’s cottage, justifying the white lie to himself as he went. He would of course have to go and see Wendy that evening. He also very much wanted to see Jess. He wasn’t going to give up on her, not now he’d seen that unmistakable look in her eyes. But this news about Florian had really shaken him, and he simply had to find out what was behind it. He hadn’t given the boy much thought in the intervening years. He’d written him off as being Clive’s son, but now if he was in trouble and Zillah was having to cope with it alone… Well, one visit couldn’t hurt. I’ll find out what’s going on, Hector thought, then collect Morgan and go straight to the hospital for half an hour or so (less if possible), and then drop Morgan back at Ifor’s and get away as quickly as I can to see… Jess… I’ve been taking things very gently for a whole month, so she’s had plenty of time in peace to examine her feelings. Please God, let her say yes, tonight.

He drew up, smiling at the thought, outside Zillah’s cottage. The old chairs had gone, but the garden still looked unkempt although, of course, it would hardly look its best in mid-February anyway. It had been unusually gloomy all day, and was now beginning to get dark at least an hour too early. There was a light on inside the cottage and the sound of Radio 3 was audible. Hector banged on the door and flakes of paint fell off.

‘Who is it?’

‘Hector Mudgeley.’

‘Well, well,’ Zillah opened the door and stood there impassively. ‘Hector Mudgeley, eh? Long time no see.’

‘How are you?’ Hector asked, noting with shock that she was very pregnant indeed.

‘Never better,’ Zillah said.

‘Can I come in for a chat?’

‘No, I’ll come out to your car. The boys will be back from school any minute, and I doubt you’d want them joining in.’

‘Well, no.’ Hector led her down the garden path to the Jaguar and opened the passenger door for her.

‘Same old car then?’ she said, getting in.

‘Naturally. It’s a collector’s piece.’ He got in too, and her scent and nearness reminded him of why he had once lusted after her. ‘How are your boys?’

‘Oh Christian did really well at school last summer. He’s got my dad’s brains, I reckon; took nine GCSE’s a year early, and now he’s sixteen and in the first year of his science A-levels.’

‘Very good,’ Hector agreed. ‘And Florian?’

‘Little sod! He’s just the opposite. I reckon it’s bad blood.’ She looked challengingly at him.

‘And how is Clive?’ (May as well double-check, Hector thought.)

‘Oh he buggered off years ago, but it wasn’t his blood I meant.’

‘But you told me Florian was Clive’s?’

‘Well I thought he was. Christian definitely is, but since they’re so very different in every possible way, it does make you wonder, doesn’t it?’

‘But no son of mine would steal cars!’ Hector protested.

‘Aha!’ Zillah said. ‘So, you
do
know about that. Is that why you’re here then, to lecture me for not keeping him under proper control? You should try it sometime. He’s slippery as black ice that one.’

‘Well maybe I could help?’ Hector suggested. ‘I’ve got a boy much the same age as Florian. They might get on well, you never kno…’

‘Not another vasectomy failure? Don’t tell me, his name’s Morgan?’ Zillah laughed.

‘Yes it is, as it happens.’

‘So what’s wrong with him then, that you need to come sniffing round after Florian?’

‘Absolutely nothing,’ Hector said, offended. ‘It seemed to be my common duty to make sure the child was all right, but if you’re just going to sneer…’

‘Mind you,’ Zillah said hurriedly, ‘I’m not saying we couldn’t do with some help…?’

‘No,’ Hector said. ‘This is clearly a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.’

‘Course, we could always take that paternity test you were so keen on?’ she wheedled. ‘Then we’d know for sure.’

‘Well…’ Hector wavered.

‘He’s not such a bad boy,’ Zillah encouraged him. ‘He’s a bit wild, but he’s goodhearted really.’

‘Can he read?’

‘Of course he can! He’s not stupid.’

‘All right then,’ Hector said, making a snap decision. ‘It’s a deal. I’ll find out what we have to do for the test. I think it involves all three of us giving a blood sample. Then I’ll let you know, OK?’

‘You’re on,’ Zillah said, opening the car door and getting out just as Christian arrived home on his bicycle. Hector wouldn’t have recognised him. He was so tall, and his dark hair was now long and scraped back into an unbecoming ponytail. He didn’t appear to remember Hector either, noting him and the car incuriously without a second glance.

‘Hi Mum, what’s for supper?’

Before she could answer, the school bus drew up and Florian leapt out.

‘Hello boys,’ Zillah said to them both. ‘Good day?’ The younger boy, illuminated in the bus’s headlights, looked
exactly
like Ifor Mudgeley had at the same age, apart from the hair.

My God, Hector thought with a start. He
could
be mine!

‘So, so’ Christian answered her over his shoulder, wheeling his bike towards the cottage. Florian said nothing at all. Instead, he twisted his face into a caricature of fear and disgust, then smiled sweetly and followed his brother up the path, slamming the front door behind him.

Zillah, standing by the car and still holding on to the door,
raised her eyes to heaven. ‘Whilst you’re here,’ she said to Hector, ‘would you like your fortune told? It’s what I do these days. I’ve got a very stylish crystal ball.’

‘Not today,’ Hector said, so she pushed the door shut and waved him off. It was only after he’d left that Hector remembered he hadn’t asked her about the father of her third baby. Had he perhaps been lurking inside the cottage all along. Hector had an uneasy feeling that as usual in his encounters with her, Zillah had come off best.

Jess felt obliged to make a duty call on Wendy, but hoped Hector would be there as well, for moral support. So, knowing that he had left the office early to visit his wife, she bought a bunch of hothouse anemones and a Get-Well card, and drove to the hospital straight after work. However, she found the patient in her room alone, propped up on her pillows and reading a thin book with a lurid cover.

‘Oh,’ Wendy exclaimed, ‘Jess! I didn’t expect to see you.’

‘Sorry,’ Jess said. ‘If it’s inconvenient, I could come another day?’

‘No,’ Wendy said. ‘I didn’t mean that.’ Jess watched her as she opened the proffered card. Without her usual make-up she looked quite different. Her hair had been flattened against the pillows and needed a wash, and her face was pale, with large dark patches below the eyes. She had clearly been through an ordeal.

‘Lovely card,’ Wendy said, looking up, ‘and flowers too. Will they go in that vase over there, with the others?’

Jess stuffed them in carefully, one by one. ‘So, how are you?’ she asked.

‘Well I managed a bit of food today,’ Wendy said, ‘and I’ve had that horrible drain removed. There was yards and yards of it right inside my stomach, and it didn’t half hurt when they dragged it out!’

‘Sounds ghastly,’ Jess said.

‘Yeah, well I wouldn’t recommend it,’ Wendy smiled weakly.

‘I rather thought Hector would be here?’ Jess said.

‘Oh well, you know Hector,’ Wendy said with a martyred look. ‘He’s probably chasing some story or another. Whatever it is, it will be more important than me.’

Jess was stumped for a reply, her immediate but stifled response being: Well if that’s your attitude, I’m surprised he visits you at all!

‘Um… Is there something I can bring you, books or anything?’ she asked, noting the title of
Trembling Heart
without surprise.

‘Hector’s getting me some magazines today, but I can’t seem to take much in,’ Wendy said, ‘so don’t bother, thanks. I feel like my brain’s on strike.’

‘That’ll be because of the anaesthetic, I expect,’ Jess said. ‘I’m sure it will wear off soon.’

‘Certainly hope so,’ Wendy said.

After that, there didn’t seem to be much to say. Jess wandered over and looked out of the window. There was a good view of the car park and the chimney of the incinerator, but nothing much else. She was about to say that she really ought to be going, when the door burst open and Morgan rushed in, closely followed by his father.

Jess hadn’t seen the boy for some time. He was certainly very fetching to look at, and had a lot of Hector in him.

‘Mummy!’ He rushed over to hug Wendy.

‘Hello love! Come and give me a kiss… ow! Be careful of my sore tummy…’

‘Why, hello Jess. This is a nice surprise.’ Hector bent to deposit a fleeting kiss on his wife’s forehead before straightening up and smiling quizzically at her.

‘Listen to this,’ Morgan said to them all, screwing up his face in concentration:

‘We don’t care
,

We don’t care
,

People see our underwear
,

If it’s black or if it’s white
,

Oh my God, it’s dynamite!’

‘Morgan!’ Wendy cried, pretending to be shocked. Jess laughed.

‘Typical schoolboy stuff,’ Hector observed. ‘It has all the necessary elements; anarchy, smut, blasphemy and violence!’

‘I think it’s very good,’ Jess said.

‘The things they learn at school these days,’ Wendy said.

‘If you can memorise that nonsense,’ Hector said to his son, ‘then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to learn your two-times table, is there?’

‘S’different,’ Morgan muttered.

‘Did you bring the magazines?’ Wendy asked.

‘Damn!’ Hector said. ‘Forgot them. Sorry, I’ll buy some tomorrow.’

‘Oh, Hector!’

‘Well,’ Jess said hastily, ‘I think I’d better be going. ‘Bye Wendy.’

‘Bye Jess. Thanks for coming.’

‘See you,’ Hector said, and winked one eye very deliberately.

On the way home, Jess thought hard about herself and Hector, and about Wendy also. She felt sorry for her. Poor stupid Wendy, Jess thought. I know you’ve had a nasty operation and I do sympathise with you, but you quite obviously haven’t got what it takes to keep up with Hector.

And I have? she challenged herself – possibly… So what if he did want to have a baby with me, would that really be so offputting? Haven’t I always said I wanted children? It’s time I made up my mind. Maybe my parents are right, and I won’t get many more chances? Would I be stupid to refuse this one?… But he’s married, so it would be wrong… And yet I realise now that I’ve probably wanted him for
years
. But what about Wendy…? Jess went over and over the pros and cons for the rest of the evening and had just concluded that an affair couldn’t possibly be justified, when the doorbell rang. It was Hector.

‘Can I come in?’ he asked.

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On why you want to?’

‘Well, to see you of course.’ He gazed steadily at her.

‘Sounds reasonable,’ Jess said, and opened the door wide.

Hector felt uncharacteristically nervous. He sat on Jess’s futon and wondered how he was going to talk her round.

‘Whisky?’ Jess offered.

‘Yes please.’

‘Water?’

‘About the same again, thanks.’ He watched her closely and wondered why he had never really
seen
her before. I’ve been too hung up on conventional good looks, he thought, too brainwashed by fashion. Here is a woman who appreciates my sense of humour, who is young and slim, and
never tells me what to do!
Why the hell didn’t I marry her seven years ago, instead of poor old Wendy?