To Have and to Hold (26 page)

Viv uncorked the wine and poured her a glass.

‘Thanks,' said Ann. They were as polite as if they had just met.

Viv sat down. ‘How's work?'

‘I can't switch it off.' Ann sat down. ‘I bring it home with me.'

‘How awful.'

‘It's not.'

‘What?'

‘I wouldn't bring it home if it was awful.'

‘No.'

Ann said: ‘I like facts and figures.'

They sipped their wine. Never before had Viv longed so much for a cigarette; she had an emergency packet, but she didn't like to bring it out in front of sister.

‘How're you feeling?' asked Ann.

‘Fine.'

There was a pause. Viv got up to fetch the bread. At the dresser she turned. ‘You really want to know?'

‘Yes.'

‘Tired and aching and bloody terrible. Only stopped throwing up last week. I always thought other people were being pathetic when they described their pregnancies.'

‘Have you seen a doctor?'

Viv shook her head.

‘Never had the time.'

‘Don't be silly.'

‘Look,' said Viv. ‘It's my business.'

‘Is it?' asked Ann.

Viv looked at her. ‘Isn't it?' There was a pause. Then she said: ‘I presume it is, as you've gone and got yourself promoted.'

‘Can't you see why?' said Ann loudly.

Viv didn't answer.

‘Do sit down,' said Ann. ‘You've made this lovely food.'

Viv moved towards the table and sat down. Ann watched her. They dipped their spoons into the soup.

‘Just shows,' said Viv. ‘One can't count on anything.'

‘I used to think I could,' said Ann.

‘Me too.'

Ann paused and put down her spoon. ‘I used to think I could count on Ken.'

Viv looked up and stared at her. ‘I'm not seeing him.'

‘Wish I could believe you. Wish I could believe anything.'

‘It's true! I've spoken to him a couple of times on the phone, that's all.'

Ann tore off a piece of bread. ‘Funny, isn't it then, that he's always out.'

‘Frightfully funny, but it's nothing to do with me,' said Viv. ‘I've been busy being sick.'

Seconds ticked by. There was no sound, except a rustle from the cage as the hamster turned in his sleep. Ann glanced up. She had the look she wore when she was a child – the creased brow, the cloudy eyes as she struggled with her own distrust. The world tricking her, as Viv used to do for fun. As her parents had done in earnest. When she discovered about her father she had said to Viv:
They've taken away my childhood
.

‘Believe me,' urged Viv. ‘God knows, we're all in a mess. At least we can get that bit straight.'

She didn't move. They were sitting opposite each other, the wine bottle between them. Then Ann's face cleared. Magically – as if her features melted – she smiled. Then she started to laugh.

Across the table Viv started laughing too, with a squeaky edge of hysteria. They both laughed until they felt emptied. Finally they simply sat there, limp, shaken by a few residual sobs. Viv leant over, took Ann's glass and filled it with wine.

‘So do shut up,' she said. ‘And get sloshed.'

There was a thunderstorm in the night. The next day the streets were fresh and the rubbish sluiced away. Along Viv's road the cars sparkled. She came out of the newsagent's with the girls. All three of them were sucking ice lollies. She felt better than she had done for weeks.

As they walked up the hill towards Highgate, they met Douglas and Vera, who were window-shopping in the Holloway Road.

‘Dad!' she called. ‘I was coming to see you. I've got an idea.'

‘One of your mad ones?' he asked.

She threw her lolly stick into the gutter. ‘The wedding, next month. Is it too late to cancel it?'

Her father stared. ‘What?'

‘Cancel the hotel reception and have it at my house?'

‘Your house?' asked Vera. She looked bronzed and startled.

Viv nodded. ‘I want to give you a party.'

‘Well, well,' said her father. ‘That would be nice.'

‘You could manage?' asked Vera. ‘What about Ollie?'

Viv shifted to the other foot. ‘Oh, he'll like it too.'

Viv always thought her clearest on the allotment. The windy spaces blew away her doubts; the cabbages, leathery and grey, were her multitude of supporters. Her jumbled home dwindled; stopping her car, with a scrunch, on the cinder parking-place, she felt simpler and lighter.

She had had no doubts that urgent day when she had stood in the hut with Ken, telling him it could be done. Nor that day, weeks before, when she had straddled the earth and smelt the soup and felt capable of anything.

It was on the Tuesday, after school, that she finally decided it was time to tell the children. Now she was happier about Ann, there was no point in delaying it. She was watering the rows of plants; the spray sparkled in an arc. She raised the hose and watched the mist leap against the sky, and then somebody was tugging at her skirt.

‘I'm bored,' said Daisy.

‘Don't be silly.'

‘I want to go to Windsor Safari Park.'

‘You've just been. Why don't you play with your teddies?'

‘They're asleep.'

‘My teddies never slept.' She had finished watering. She dragged the hose back to the tap, watching the water leak into the ground, and turned off the current. The girls were hanging around at the door of the hut.

She said: ‘I've got something to tell you.'

‘I want some crisps.'

‘Listen. I'm going to have a baby.'

They stared at her. ‘A real one?' asked Rosie.

‘Hope so. Now listen.' She squatted down. They stood in front of her. ‘I always try to tell you the truth, to treat you as proper people. So listen carefully.' She paused, looking at their faces. Daisy was picking at some mud on her knee. ‘You know that Ann can't have children and how that makes her sad?' They
looked at her, their faces blank. ‘Well, I'm going to give her this baby.'

‘When?' asked Rosie. ‘Now?'

‘When it's born. So she can have a baby to bring up, that'll make her as happy as you make me.'

‘But you're always shouting at us,' said Daisy.

Viv ignored this. ‘What you must understand is that it's not as if we'll be giving the baby away and never seeing it again. It'll be part of the family. One big family. Isn't that marvellous?'

They gazed at her. Daisy scuffed at a small ridge of earth. ‘Where'll it live?' asked Rosie.

‘With Ken and Ann.'

‘In their house?'

‘Yes.'

‘They'll make it wash its hands before tea,' said Rosie.

‘Quite right too,' said Viv.

‘They're all strict.'

‘Listen,' said Viv. ‘It's all going to be wonderful. But don't tell anyone yet.
Anyone
. It's our secret. Ann and I made up our minds properly on Saturday, when you were at Windsor Safari Park.'

Daisy wailed: ‘I want to go to Windsor Safari Park!'

‘Oh shut up,' said Viv.

‘If we go home now,' said Daisy, ‘will you buy us a Cornetto!'

Viv sighed and climbed to her feet. She thought of all the agonizing the four of them had gone through, thinking of this moment. She thought of something Ollie used to quote to her:
Adults are deteriorated children,
and she wondered: are they? Sometimes adults seemed rather more sensitive. She rolled up the hose and considered the
sang froid
of the young.

It was the last day of the summer term. In the staffroom a few teachers were still packing up. Madeleine took a card off the noticeboard.

‘Nobody wants my yoghurt maker.' She took off another card. ‘Nobody wants my kittens.'

Harold said: ‘Try again in September.'

‘They'll be having kittens of their own by then.'

‘Ah,' sighed Harold. ‘These whirlwind holiday romances.'

Madeleine laughed and went to the door.

‘You patched it up with Dave?' Viv asked her.

She nodded. ‘We're going on a walking holiday in Cornwall.'

‘Don't get corns,' said Harold.

‘Corny,' groaned Viv.

‘Trouble with holidays,' said Harold, ‘you need a holiday to recover.'

Madeleine asked him: ‘You're going to that caravan park again?'

‘Please. Leisure Centre.' He nodded. ‘Once again I'll be staying in a blot on the landscape.'

‘Bye,' said Madeleine. ‘See you next year.'

‘She left. Harold and Viv were alone. He was ready to go, but she seemed to be waiting for something. He asked her: ‘You still don't know where you're going?'

‘Nope.'

‘That's what I like about you.'

‘What?' she asked.

‘Impulsive. I should live like you, never planning –'

‘I do plan!' she said abruptly.

He put down his bag of books. ‘Sure you're OK?' She nodded.

‘I've been worried about you.'

‘I know,' she said.

‘Where's the old Viv? I need her.'

‘Why?'

‘For her dirty limericks. I'm letting the side down in the pub.'

Suddenly she embraced him.

‘Mmmm . . .' he murmured.

‘What?'

‘Something to get my arms around.'

She struggled free, awkwardly.

‘No, it's nice,' he said. ‘You feel quite womanly.'

‘You like them fat?' she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

‘I don't have a lot of choice.' He sighed, and reached for his carry-all. His large, leathery face looked tired.

She said: ‘You've meant a lot to me this term.'

‘I try to oblige.'

She paused. ‘Will you do something for me?'

‘That depends.'

She asked: ‘Will you forgive me?'

‘For what?'

She spoke seriously. ‘For not treating you like a friend?'

He frowned. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘Nothing.'

Suddenly she hugged him again, to hell with her size. At that moment the door opened and Alan came in.

‘Whoops,' said Harold. ‘Caught again.' He released Viv. ‘Just some departmental negotiation.' He kissed Viv on the cheek. ‘You look after yourself,' he said, and left.

Alan sat down. Viv went over to the tea cupboard and looked inside. ‘No milk.'

‘Never mind.' He patted the seat beside him. ‘You said you wanted a chat.'

‘Not a chat. A talk.' She stood beside the pin-pricked wall where the timetable had been. She felt sad that she had to tell Alan, whom she liked less than Harold. Alan was younger and more successful. He had a pencil-thin jazzman's beard, and ambition had made him pompous.

He said: ‘I think I know what it's about.'

She froze. ‘How?'

‘These things filter out, Viv.'

‘What things?'

‘What you've been up to,' he said. As she stared at him, he ran his finger around his jawline. ‘I've had complaints.'

‘What about?'

He paused. ‘Look Viv. You're a terrific teacher and you have an exceptional rapport with the kids. But for that very reason you can be dangerous.'

‘What?'

He patted the chair again. She moved forward and sat on the arm of the sofa.

‘Because they listen to you,' he said. ‘They trust you.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘I'm sorry to bring it up now, but perhaps you can mull it over during the holidays. I'm talking about your, well, political and feminist propaganda. Particularly with the girls. Apparently they go back home and start spouting all this stuff about male exploitation and' – he winced – ‘body fascism. Look, I'm all for giving kids a choice of the options, but you've honestly no right, particularly as many of them really aren't career material. Viv, I don't want us to turn out a hoard of discontented subversives.' He stopped.

Viv said: ‘That's not the reason I wanted to talk to you.'

‘No?'

‘I wanted to tell you I'm pregnant.'

He stared at her, then burst out laughing. ‘You, pregnant?'

‘I haven't told anyone else. Please don't.'

He was still chuckling. ‘I thought you looked a bit plump but

‘But what?'

‘You!'

‘I've had them before,' she said crisply. Crisper than she felt.

‘I know, but you've always said that stage was over, you were devoting yourself to your career, part of our team, women can choose, etcetera. Just what you tell the pupils, in fact.'

‘I know.'

‘Well,' he said, ‘I guess congratulations are in order.'

‘Sort of.'

He raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?'

She shifted on the arm of the sofa. She had told Ken:
I'm a wonderful liar.
She gazed down at the threadbare rug. Once she had dug up her father's potatoes and put the tops back in the earth; the next day they had stood beside the drooped leaves and she'd told him, with such utter conviction that she convinced herself, how the boys next door must have climbed in and done it. That had been easy.

‘Look,' she said, ‘I just wanted to give you official notice that you should make arrangements for a supply teacher.'

‘When?'

‘December.' She tried to smile. ‘I'll tell it to be born at Christmas so it won't be too disruptive.'

‘Supply?' he asked.

‘I'll be coming back afterwards.'

‘Sure?' he asked. ‘What about the baby?'

She looked down at the rug. ‘I've got some sorting out to do this holidays,' she said. ‘There are problems.'

‘Medical?'

‘Domestic,' she said.

‘Ah.'

She took a breath. ‘Ollie's not the father.'