Finding Margo (33 page)

“Yes,” Margo said brightly, touching her curls. “Do you like it?”

“No. But I’m sure you didn’t come here to show me your new hairdo. Or to admire the curtains,” he added dryly.

“No.” Suddenly hot, she started to unbutton her coat.

“I was surprised to hear your voice on the phone.”

“You were?”

“Yes. And pleased, of course. I’ve been—” He paused and cleared his throat. “It’s been a difficult few months.”

“Yes.”

“For me, I mean.”

“I suppose,” Margo said flatly. Oh God, she thought, why do I feel guilty? Why does he always manage to make me feel as if I’m at fault? But the guilt turned to anger, as he sat there with a long-suffering expression on his face as if he was some kind of martyr who was trying to come to terms with a huge pain inflicted by Margo.

“Oh, Alan,” she said in a low voice. “Have you no idea? No idea at all?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why it happened, I mean, why I left you like that?” Suddenly, the words poured out of her like an unstoppable stream. “I couldn’t take it anymore,” she said. “I couldn’t stand being called a moron and a stupid bitch and all the other things you said I was. I thought I would go mad if I stayed with you. Maybe I should have left a long time ago, when you started to change.”

“Change?” Alan asked, looking both hurt and puzzled. “What do you mean? I didn’t change. It was you who—”

“No!’ Margo almost shouted. “It wasn’t me!
You
did! You became sneery and superior. You started to lose your temper when you were stressed and you picked on me every time something went wrong. And I took it. I took the blame and the abuse.”

“Abuse?” Alan snorted. “I think you exaggerate just a little, darling.”

“It
was
abuse,” Margo whispered. “Verbal abuse. You made me feel as if I was worth nothing.”

“Hold on,” Alan snapped. “Calm down. You make me sound like a real heel.” He paused and looked at her with that superior little smile he used when he wanted to intimidate her. “OK, so I flew off the handle. I got a little annoyed. But it was a hot day and my back was really beginning to hurt. I was nervous about the conference and the speech, you must have known that. I know I gave you a hard time, but I think you overreacted there, you know. Why didn’t you wait for me to calm down? I would have, you know I would.”

“Yes. I suppose you would have. Until the next time.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, no longer pretending to be aloof. “How could you do what you did, Margo? How could you just walk away like that?” He stopped. “Can’t you try to imagine what I went through? I thought something terrible had happened to you. I thought you were dead until Fiona told me you had turned up at her place. Can you not understand how frightened I was?”

“Yes,” Margo replied. “It must have been very worrying. And I’m sorry I put you through that, I really am. But I felt I had no choice, I felt I had to go, to save myself from—”

“From what?” Alan demanded.

“From dying,” Margo said in a small voice.

“Oh Christ, that’s so over the top,” Alan said. “Like pop psychology from some kind of soap opera.”

“That’s how I felt.”

“OK,” Alan soothed, humouring her now. “So you needed a break. Space, I think you told Fiona.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Right. And now? What have you come here to tell me, exactly? Are you ready to come back? Is that it?”

“No.”

“In that case, I have to tell you—” He stopped, looking startled. “What?”

“I said ‘no’,” Margo said calmly. “I’m not coming back to you, Alan.”

“What do you mean?” Alan sighed, looking impatient. “I see. You’re still angry, aren’t you? Oh, OK, I know I’ve been a little bad tempered, and I know it must have hurt you. And—” He paused. “All right. I’m sorry.”

Margo didn’t reply. She looked at him and wondered how it was possible that she could have loved him once.

“For God’s sake, Margo!’ Alan said, sounding exasperated. “You can’t be serious about leaving for good. Think of all we have – the practice, the house, our life together. You can’t seriously mean that you’re going to give it all up, just because you can’t put up with my temper?”

“No,” Margo said. “That’s not the reason.”

“What?”

“I said that’s not the reason. I mean the whole story. Your behaviour is one of the reasons, but there’s a lot more.”

“More?” he said, sounding irritated. “How do you mean? What else do you think you have to complain about?”

“You lied to me,” Margo said.

“I lied to you? About what, for God’s sake?”

“You said I couldn’t get pregnant, remember? You said it was my fault we couldn’t have a child.”

“Yes? So?” The confusion in Alan’s eyes was suddenly mixed with a growing fear.

“Well,” Margo said. “I have just found out I can.”

“Found out you can, what?” Alan whispered, although Margo could tell he knew the answer. “You mean—”

“Yes, that’s right,” Margo said as she saw the expression in his eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Alan’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God.”

“Amazing, isn’t it? Such a miracle, don’t you think?”

Alan didn’t reply. He seemed to have suddenly discovered that his shoes were very interesting. They were both quiet for a while.

Alan looked at Margo again. “You’ve had an affair? Who was it? Some French creep?”

“It’s none of your business,” Margo said. “Nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with me? My wife has an affair and it has nothing to do with me? And here you are pregnant, for God’s sake.”

“I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t lied,” Margo said, wondering how she was managing to stay so calm. “If I had known—” She stopped. “Oh God. If you hadn’t lied to me, how different everything would have been, can’t you see that? If I had known that there was something wrong with you, we could have—”

“How do you know it was my fault?” Alan demanded. “How do you know there wasn’t something wrong with
you
, something that somehow—”

“Got better?” Margo lifted one eyebrow. “Do you seriously expect me to believe that?”

“No,” Alan mumbled.

“And why are you suddenly so shocked to find out I’ve been with someone else, when you’ve had some kind of fling with Fiona?”

Alan blanched. “What? Fiona? How did you—has she—”

“She hasn’t said a word,” Margo said. “It was just a hunch, really. She has been behaving so strangely. And she has been desperate to get us back together again. It seemed like a matter of life and death to her. So I put one and two together.”

“One and two?”

“One, you had an affair,” Margo stated. “Two, you have been threatening to tell Marcus about it if she didn’t manage to get me to go back to you. Am I right? Yes, I see that I am. You did. When did you have that little fling then?”

“It was a long time ago,” Alan said impatiently, as if she was fussing over nothing. “Just a few times, really.”

“Oh.”

“It was around the time when we were trying to have a child,” Alan continued. “When I found out, I was upset. I couldn’t face you. I needed someone who didn’t judge me, whom I didn’t really care much about. Just straight sex, no strings. You know what I mean?” He looked at her as if he was willing her to understand, to agree that it had been very important for him to forget his troubles by sleeping around.

“I see.” Margo was quiet again. As she was trying to digest what he had just told her, she felt suddenly very sad. “You were so sweet at that time,” she whispered, “so caring and gentle. I loved you more than any other time then because I thought you were so kind. You seemed to really understand what I was going through. And of course you did,” she added bitterly. “You knew what it felt like to know you would never have a child of your own.” Margo rose from her chair with all the dignity she could muster. “I have to go,” she said. “I can’t stay here with you any longer.”

“But,” Alan protested. “I want to tell you... We have to—”

“No.” Margo buttoned up her coat and walked to the door. “There’s nothing more to say. Except—”

“What?” Alan asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“Goodbye,” Margo said softly and walked out.

D
ean Martin was still singing in the lift, but Margo didn’t hear him this time. She rode down to the ground floor, feeling utterly exhausted, so exhausted she had to sit down in one of the leather chairs by the reception desk and catch her breath.

“Are you feeling all right, Madame?” The young female receptionist looked at Margo’s pale face with concern. “Can I get you a glass of water, perhaps?”

“Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”

Margo gratefully sipped the water when it arrived, trying to gather enough strength to get going again. She was surprised at how deeply sad she felt. As if someone had died. But it wasn’t the death of a person, only the end of a marriage, she thought. The end of Alan and Margo, a couple, a life – a part of her gone forever. She didn’t want to think about the way they had parted; she didn’t feel triumphant about having exposed his lies and his affair with Fiona. And, although she was now vindicated, and Alan’s last words of apology were still ringing in her ears, she didn’t have a sense of victory, only a certain tired satisfaction. And pity for Alan. How miserable, she thought, to have lived a lie all these years.

“Are you feeling better, Madame?” the receptionist asked, now looking as if Margo’s presence was beginning to annoy her. “Maybe I could call you a taxi?”

I’d better go, Margo thought. They probably don’t want sickly looking pregnant women lowering the tone of their establishment.

“Yes please,” she said. “Get me a taxi.”

She suddenly remembered she had promised to meet Gráinne for a drink in her hotel around seven. Now I have to tell
her
about this, Margo thought as she walked into the busy street. What on earth is she going to say?

***

G
ráinne stared at Margo. “Well, I’ll be fucked. Sorry, didn’t mean to sound rough but you really took me by surprise.” They were sitting in a brasserie near Gráinne’s hotel, and Margo had just broken the news. “Jesus, Mary and Josef,” Gráinne continued. “You really know how to startle a girl.”

“I was pretty startled myself when I found out,” Margo said with a little smile.

“I bet you were. But being pregnant is one thing. What caused it is even freakier.”

“Freaky? What do you mean?”

“Well, you and what’s-his-name. I never thought you would want to do it with someone like that. Not that he isn’t great looking,” Gráinne added, when she saw the expression in Margo’s eyes, “but he’s such a—” She stopped. “OK, I won’t go into it. You did it and here you are. Pregnant.” Gráinne looked at Margo disapprovingly. “What were you thinking? You must have known about babies and how they’re made and all that.”

“But you see, I thought I couldn’t get pregnant. My husband and I had tried for years and then he told me that—well, that I would never be able to have a baby. He made me think it was because there was something wrong with
me
, when all the time—”

“He was shooting blanks?” Gráinne shook her head in disgust. “What a fucking creep. And look at the trouble it caused. But he probably never thought you would try it with someone else.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Have you told him?”

“Alan? Yes, I—”

“Not him, you dope, Jacques. Have you told him he’s going to be a daddy? I’d love to have been a fly on the wall when you broke that particular piece of news.”

“I haven’t told him yet,” Margo said bleakly. “I don’t know where he is.”

“What?” Gráinne stared incredulously at Margo. “He’s done a bunk?”

“No, not really. He had to leave the château after—well, a family row. Long before I knew about—” Margo gestured at her stomach. “And nobody seems to know where he is. Not that they’ve been trying very hard,” she added.

“Why wouldn’t they? Haven’t you told them yet?”

“Well yes. I told Milady.”

“I bet that made her sit up and take notice.”

“She was really shocked at first,” Margo said. “But then, when she was used to the idea, she seemed delighted. A bit too delighted, actually.”

“How do you mean?”

“She has become obsessed with me and the baby. And she seems to think I’m going to live with her forever or something. It’s getting really scary, to tell you the truth. She has bought piles of baby clothes from Baby Dior and only in pink. She says she knows it’s going to be a girl and that we’ll call her Josephine after her.”

“Hmm,” Gráinne said, looking thoughtful. “I’ve seen that a lot. An older mare getting possessive about the foal of a younger mare. And if it’s a filly—”

“What are you going on about now?” Margo laughed. “I’m not a horse. Oh, shut up. Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about you.”

“Me? But I’m not half as interesting.”

“Of course you are. I want to know what you’re doing in Paris.”

“OK, just a minute. I just wanted to say one more thing. About him. The daddy-to-be. I know—”

“No, not another word,” Margo interrupted. “I don’t want to hear what you think of him.”

“But I—”

“No,” Margo said. “Stop it or I’m leaving.”

“OK, keep your hair on. What was it you wanted to know about me?”

“I want to know,” Margo said, leaning forward, staring at Gráinne, “what you are doing here, and how come you look so well and so happy.”

“I look well?” Gráinne smiled. “Really?”

“Yes. You’ve lost weight, and your hair is a bit longer, and you look—” Margo studied Gráinne for a while. “Softer,” she ended. “Prettier. Happier.”

Gráinne blushed. “I stopped smoking,” she said. “And well, it’s Seamus.”

“Oooh,” Margo said, nodding. “I see. You’re in love.”

Gráinne blushed even more until her face was crimson. “Yeah, well, you know.” She cleared her throat. “And I’m here in Paris with him, you see. We were at this international show jumping competition in England. I was there as groom, and he was the vet to the Irish team. And when the competition was over, he said why not jump on the ferry and go to Paris for a few days? He wanted to see the sights and stay in a nice hotel and he asked me—” Gráinne looked into her coffee cup.