More Than You Know (37 page)

“Matt,” said Eliza, taking a deep breath, “have I got things very wrong, and are you thinking of this flat for the two of us?”

There was a silence;
God
, she thought,
I’ve got it terribly, terribly wrong; now what do I do, flee down to Dorking …?

“Well … well, yes,” he said. “I was … thinking about it. As a matter of fact.” He sounded almost sulky. She giggled. “Eliza … I would like us to move in together. I can’t think why you thought I didn’t.”

“Possibly because you kept saying you didn’t.”

“I thought you’d see through that. I kept telling you I loved you. I’d have thought that made it pretty plain, really, what I wanted.”

“Not terribly.”

“Oh. Well, let me tell you again. I … I have decided I’d like to live with you.”

“What about asking me. It’s normal to ask people if they want to live with you. Go on. Properly. Nicely. And stop looking so cross.”

He sighed. “Oh, this is ridiculous.” He walked over to the window, turned to face her, scowled. “All right. I love you, Eliza. I’d like you to move in with me.”

“Please.”

“Does that mean yes?”

“No, it means you have to say please.”

He sighed. “Please.”

There was a long silence; his expression began to change from irritated to anxious.

Eliza walked towards him and took his hands and kissed him on the mouth, very lightly.

“I would like to live with you, you wretched man. And I love you too. Very much, I can’t think why. But … there’s something I need to tell you, and I think I’d better do it now while I’m feeling brave enough and before you sign anything. Um … how would you feel about one of those bedrooms being turned into a nursery?”

Eliza had never seen him so angry.

“You are what?”

“I’m pregnant. I’m sorry.”

“I should bloody well think you’re sorry. And it’s due when?”

“Um … Octoberish.”

“So you’ve known for four bloody months. You had no right to keep it from me. God, I can’t believe it. Bloody outrageous.”

“Jack,” said Eliza, “I’m pregnant. I haven’t committed a crime.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, under the circumstances. Well, you needn’t think you’re staying on here. Jesus Christ.”

He told her to get out; she sat in her office shaking slightly. Milly came in offering tea; Annunciata appeared in the doorway.

“Eliza, I couldn’t help hearing that. I should think the whole office did. It was outrageous. I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, well.” She managed to smile, then suddenly started to cry. “Sorry. I’m not really unhappy. It was just a bit of a … a shock. He was so … so brutal.”

“He’s such a bastard. Well, I think it’s wonderful that you’re having a baby.” She walked round Eliza’s desk, gave her a hug. “Congratulations. Don’t take any notice of him. I’m about to go and give him an earful.”

“Annunciata, please don’t. He’ll think I put you up to it.”

“Oh, no, he won’t. So, anyway, are you going to get married?”

“I am, yes. In a couple of weeks, actually. Matt says no son of his is going to be born out of wedlock.”

“Oh, it’s a son, is it?”

“So Matt says. Anything else would be an insult to his virility.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. These men. Eliza, ignore Jack. He’ll get over it. He can’t afford to lose you. It’s as simple as that.”

“Jack’s fired me,” said Eliza, looking tearfully at Matt. “Isn’t that foul?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

She stared at him. “Why?”

“Eliza, you’re having a baby. You can’t go on working anyway. There’s no way I’m having you working when you’ve got the baby. You’re not leaving it with nannies.”

Eliza felt her stomach lurch.

“Of course I’m going to work. I love it; it’s really, really important to me.”

“Eliza, that baby is much more important than any job. I want you at home looking after it.”

“You want that? What about me?”

He looked at her, his face very set.

“It’s not about you. It’s about the baby. For Christ’s sake, it’s a lot more important than any fucking magazine.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. I’m going back to my place. I’m tired.”

She walked out and slammed the door. As she walked down the track to the road she heard the door open and Matt’s footsteps behind her. He caught her by the shoulders and swung her round. “Do you know why you’re tired? It’s because you’re pregnant; you’re having a baby. It seems I have to keep reminding you of that.”

“Oh, stop it,” said Eliza. “You’re just being horrible and hateful and—” She suddenly burst into tears. She kept doing that; she supposed it was her hormones.

Matt’s voice changed. “Look, come on back in and sit down. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“I don’t want a cup of tea.”

“Well, all right. I won’t make you a cup of tea. Look, Eliza, I’m … I’m sorry.”

She stared at him. He never said he was sorry. Never. “I … I overreacted. I … I love you, Eliza. So much. And I’m over the moon about the baby. You know I am. I just … just sometimes wonder if you are too.
Come on, come back in, calm down. I don’t want you getting upset. It might … well, it can’t be good for either of you.”

She sighed, then put her hand in his.

“OK. Thank you. Could it be hot milk instead of tea?”

“Course. And then if you still want to go home, I’ll drive you.”

“No,” she said, “no, I’ll stay here. Of course.”

They didn’t return to the subject of her working.

It was quite extraordinary how excited he was about the baby. She was amazed. When she’d told him he’d gone bright red and said, “Oh, my God,” and then again, “Oh, my God,” and then, “That’s bloody amazing.”

They’d sat down on the bare boards of the flat, and he’d asked her how she knew and whether she was sure, and when it was going to be, and he just couldn’t stop smiling.

He had asked her to marry him within an hour of being informed about his prospective fatherhood. “Or rather, made an announcement,” Eliza said, laughing, to Maddy, “like he does about all his major decisions. He said no baby of his was to be born a bastard, and there was no time to be lost.”

“And … are you really, really happy about it?”

Eliza stared at her.

“Of course I am. I feel like I’m going to burst I’m so happy. I love him so, so much. Why do you think I did all this, gave up Jeremy and everything? Honestly, Maddy, that is the strangest question.”

“Well, that’s fine. Sorry. I just wanted to … well, to hear it from you …”

“Anyway, we’re getting married in a month—put it in your diary—just the families and best friends, Chelsea Reg, and a party afterwards at the Arethusa. That was my idea,” she added. “I think Matt would have settled for a quick drink in the pub.”

“What are you going to wear?”

“Oh … little dress from Foale and Tuffin. Really sweet. Short and white, but I can’t do the bridal number, not being up the duff and all. Even though I don’t show.”

“And … are your family coming?”

“I don’t know,” said Eliza. And burst into the inevitable tears.

She had taken Matt down to Summercourt to give them the news. For the first and last time in her pregnancy, she was sick that morning.

Her mother greeted them, smiling rather wanly, telling Matt just a bit too graciously that it was very nice to see him again. “Come through, both of you; Daddy’s in the morning room, been having a little nap. How are you; you look well.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you. Bit tired; we’re moving, got a flat in Battersea, lovely Victorian mansion block by the river. It’s really super, isn’t it, Matt?”

“Yeah,” he said, “yeah, it’s great.”

“I’m so glad. Adrian, darling, here they are.”

“Daddy, hallo. How are you? You remember Matt?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Expression had largely deserted Adrian’s face; it was the frozen, strained look of the Parkinson’s victim who struggled to smile. He held out his shaking hand.

“How do you do?” he said in his new, whispery voice. “Delighted to meet you again. Heard a lot about you, of course. Good journey down?”

“Yes, it was really easy, thanks.”

“Er … sherry?” said Sarah into the silence.

“Or a beer?” asked Adrian.

“Oh, now you’re talking,” said Matt. “I could murder a beer.”

Eliza watched him being himself at his best, polite and attentive, while refusing to put on any kind of a show, and thought how much she loved him.

She saw him taking in the kitchen, every detail of it, the cold, the peeling paint at the windows, the shabby, worn rug on the stone floor, the Aga, the huge wooden table, the jugs of dried flowers, the two cats asleep in the big chair. “Lovely,” he said, “a real old-fashioned family kitchen. Very, very nice. Can I stand by the stove? I’m absolutely freezing.”

“We couldn’t live without our Aga, could we, Eliza?”

“No, Mummy.”

“So … you met Eliza through Charles, I seem to remember, Matt?” Sarah’s smile was not so much chilly as frozen.

“Yes, that’s right. Charles and I were army mates.”

“Oh, really? How interesting.”

A silence. Then: “Were you out in Gibraltar with him?”

“No, no. Just on the old basic training. But we kept in contact afterwards.”

Another silence. Eliza broke in slightly desperately.

“Yes, and then he found Maddy the premises where she works. He’s in the property business, as you know.”

“That must be most interesting,” said Adrian. “They’re practically rebuilding London, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. And I like to think I’m helping them.”

“I think I rather preferred it how it was,” said Sarah.

A very long silence.

“Eliza, why don’t you show Matt round the house,” said Sarah, “while I heat up the soup.”

“Got a knife?” hissed Matt as they walked out into the hall.

“What do you want a knife for?”

“To cut the atmosphere with.”

“Sorry, Matt. It’ll get better, I’m sure.”

“Hope so.”

He was slightly taken aback by the house all over again; she could see that. By its size, as well as its beauty. Despite the fact that it was a sorry change from the lovely warm, light-filled place he had peered into at the wedding.

“Very nice,” he kept saying as she led him from the drawing room into the morning room and then across the hall to the dining room. “Very nice indeed,” as they mounted the staircase. “God, another one,” as bedroom followed bedroom. “Crikey,” as they went up to the top floor.

“Yes, and this is why it’s such a nightmare,” said Eliza, indicating the collection of bowls in the corner of the old nursery. “Look, they collect water when it rains. Roof’s leaking and they can’t afford to fix it.”

“Shame. God, this is some place, Eliza. It is really …” He paused. “Really beautiful. I can see why you love it. But … lot of money.”

“Yes, to put it all right, you mean? Which they just haven’t got. It’s
so horrible, what’s happening. But … nothing to be done. Well … let’s go down and face the music. Shall we tell them before or after lunch?”

“After might be better.”

After lunch, which wasn’t as bad as Eliza feared—her father seemed to like Matt—Sarah suggested coffee.

“Lovely, Mummy. Now … just before you make it, Matt and I have something to tell you.”