A Kind of Loving (36 page)

Well I get plenty of practice the next few days. I can't remember
a worse four or five days in my life, while I'm walking about
putting on the big act, pretending I haven't a care in the world,
and all the time this thing's boiling inside me. I learn-how people can hide a big load of worry if they have to, because nobody, not
even the Old Lady, as much as guesses there's anything wrong.
All the time I'm wanting like mad to ring Ingrid up and hear
her say it's come right, but I daren't for fear of hearing
the
opposite. I think she'll ring me anyway when it does happen; and
then again I tLink maybe she won't because I might have sounded
too confident about it, and why should she ring me to tell me something I knew would happen all the time?
I might have to
marry her.
I've got to face it; if this doesn't turn out right I might
have to many her. I break out in a cold sweat at the thought of
it. I suppose there are places in the world where you could marry
a bint who was having a kid and then call it off after. But not
where I live. People do get divorced now and then, and split up, but when bods like me get married it's nine times out of ten for
life. A life sentence, and make the best of it. And anyway, I don't
like to think about marriage in terms of getting out of it. Marriage shouldn't be like that: it should be like it is with Chris and David;
like it could be with me and that girl... the right girl... But
with the wrong one ... Never again, I tell myself. If this works
out I'll see her just once more to explain how I feel and that'll be
the end,
finis, kaput.
No matter how much I might want to do
otherwise.

Well, at the end of this five days, or five years to me, the phone
rings in the shop and Mr Van Huyten says, 'It's for you, Victor. A young lady, I believe.' My heart's hammering as I pick the
receiver up and I look round to see if anybody's listening and
take a deep breath before saying anything.

'Hello.'

'Hello, is that you, Vic? This is Ingrid.'

'Hello, Ingrid. How's tricks?'

'I've been waiting for you to ring me, Vic. I thought you must
be away from work or something ...'

'Oh, no, no — I've been a bit tied up with one thing an'
another.' I slip my hand into my jacket and feel my heart doing
the polka.

' Vic - it hasn't happened. It's over a fortnight now.'

'You're not pulling my leg, are you?' Like hell, she is!

'You know I wouldn't joke about a thing like that.'

'Well, there's still time, isn't there?'

'I suppose there's always a chance ... Look, I've got to see
you, Vic. We've got to talk about it. I can't talk over the telephone. Can I see you tonight?'

'Well, I'm not sure about tonight...' I haven't a damn thing
on actually, but my first instinct is to put her off.

'Please, Vic, tonight. Don't put me off, please. I've got to see
you.'

She sounds to me as if she'll go round the bend if she doesn't
talk to somebody, and better me than anybody else. You never
know with these birds. Some of them tell their pals every damn thing.

' Okay, tonight, then. Usual time and place.'

I put the receiver down and get hold of the counter with both
hands. I know as sure as God made little apples that it's not
going to happen and she's pregnant.

V

' Let's get it straight, then. You're a fortnight Overdue...'

'Fifteen days,' she says.

'Okay, fifteen days. Is it such a long time? I don't know much
about it, but don't women have this happen to them sometimes?'

'Some women do, but they come to expect it. I'm not like that. I told you before, Vic, it's never happened with me. I can nearly
tell the date by it usually.'

'Well, maybe you're run down and need a tonic or something.
Maybe you should see the doctor.'

'I've a feeling I shall be seeing the doctor before long,' she says; 'only it won't be for a tonic.'

' Whatever you do, don't get panicky. There's always a chance.
There's always hope.'

We're in the shelter in the park and it's a fine warmish night
with a clear sky. But we're sitting about four feet apart and
neither of us feels much like going out on the grass.

'There's something else,' Ingrid says. 'I couldn't tell you over
the phone
My mother knows. I had to tell her.'

I feel as if somebody's planted a size ten boot right in my guts.
It winds me. '.Oh, for crying out loud, Ingrid, why did you have
to do a daft thing like that? Couldn't you have kept it dark a bit
longer?' Oh, Jesus, now we are in trouble.

'I had to tell her, Vic. She knows as well as I do how regular
I am. She started asking questions. You don't know my mother,
how she can worm things out of you. I just broke down and told
her.'

As long as she doesn't break down now, I'm thinking. As
long as she doesn't start bawling on top of everything else.

'How much did you tell her?'

'Well... enough

What does it matter what she told her? There's only one
way to make a baby, after all. It's the oldest pastime known to
man, don't they say? I think of how many blokes must have been
in this pickle before me and imagine them all stretching right
back to ancient times. Wherever they all are now they must be
nudging one another and sniggering and saying, Look, there's another poor sod gone and got his wick wet.

'Oh, Christ... What did she say?'

'What d'you think she said? She was livid. I've never seen her
so angry... I daren't tell you all she did say.'

'About me?'

'Well, can you blame her?'

So if nothing worse comes of it I've got a woman walking
about thinking of me as the dirty little tyke who nearly got her
daughter into trouble. I'll be lucky if she doesn't spill the beans
to the Old Lady. Any day might bring a letter telling all...

' She made me have a hot bath and drink some gin. I think she
wishes she hadn't now, but she was in a real flap.'

'It didn't work, though?'

'No. I couldn't stand the bath hot enough and
I was sick when
I'd had one glass of gin.'

'It's ... it's a kind of murder, in a way, that...'

'I suppose it is, in a way. But I'll bet plenty of women try it
on, and you wouldn't have minded if it had worked, would you?'

'What's she going to do now?'

'She says she'll wait another week and then take me to the
doctor's.'

'I suppose she'll want to see me then?'

'She said she'd write for me dad to come home. She says you'll
have a man to face when you do come.'

'Oh, Christ, what a lousy mess.'

'I suppose we should have thought about it before.'

'But it's a bit of bloody hard luck when we get caught first time
and there's people trying for ages to have kids.'

'You'll have to write a letter to somebody about it,' she says.
It's the best joke I've ever heard her make but I'm not in a mood for laughing. I can't even raise a smile.

I get up and walk up and down on the concrete a bit. There's no
way out, though. I've had it, sure as eggs are eggs. I take my cig case out. 'May as well have a smoke. We're not dead yet. Here ...' She takes one and we light up.

'Vic,' she says, 'what are we going to do? What can we do?'

She's upset, real upset, I can tell. I'm not the only one to have gone through it this past few days. And before that - she was
carrying it around with her for days before she told me. And it'll
be worse for her in one way because she'll be the one who'll
have the big belly to hump around for everybody to point at and
talk about. Except, of course, that once that's over she'll have
what she wants - me. And a bloody fine catch I am. Maybe
that's what's worrying her now, maybe she's wondering if I will
marry her if the worst happens. Maybe that's what's getting her
down
.

I know she's pregnant. I know for sure. I know for sure I'm not going to get out of this one. I'm caught and that's a fact.
Capital F-a-c-t. This is where all the dreams end, Vic Brown, No
need to go on looking for that girl. You've found her, the only
one you'll get now. You're trapped and there's no way out. Oh,
what a fool; what a bloody, bloody fool!

So that's it. It only wants saying, and I lean my head against the roof post andJook out over the park and say it.

'Don't worry. We'll get married. That's what we'll do.'

She says nothing and in a few seconds I hear a little noise
and I turn round and see she's crying.

'Don't worry, I said, we'll get married. You didn't think I'd
let you down, did you? You didn't think I'd take my hook and leave you to face it all on your own, did you? I'm no bloody angel but I'm not that kind of louse.'

She's sobbing away like billy-ho now. The hanky's out and
the waterworks are turned on good and proper.

'I've always wanted to marry you, Vic,' she says, 'I've often imagined how you might propose to me. And now it has to be this way. Forcing you into it. You'd never have asked me but for this, would you? I know you wouldn't. I know you don't love me like I love you.'

Well, she can't have it both ways, can she? Just like a woman
to want it, though.

'I've asked you, haven't I? I've said we'll get married, haven't
I?'

'You've no need to if you don't want to,' she says all at once.
'I shan't force you.'

This is a laugh. Even if she won't force me, what about every
body else? I can just imagine them all if I make so much as a sign that I don't want to go through with it. I can just see them
all putting the screws on. It'd take a better man than me to stand
out against all that.

'You know damn well you won't turn me down, though,' I
tell her, and if it sounds conceited I can't help it. It's not much
joy to me to know "she loves me. If she didn't we should probably
never have got into this mess.

Me saying that turns the waterworks on in a fresh gush. 'I won't,' she says. 'I won't. I've always wanted you. You know I
have.'

I turn round again and look at the park.

'Well,' I say in a quiet voice, 'now you've got me.'

An
d as I'm standing there I wish to God, I wish more than I've ever wished for anything else, that I'd never laid eyes on her.

CHAPTER 5