sUnwanted Truthst (17 page)

‘Stop it, Mum and Dad are over there, they'll see you.'

‘We are married. Anyway Dad's deep in conversation, he wouldn't notice if we were actually doing it.'

‘Deep in India, more like it.' Jenny could see that Charlie had cornered someone by the bar, and could hear that he was treating him to a full description of a visit to the bazaar… ‘Small boys were always coming up to you, offering you anything for money. Their sister, or brother if you were that way inclined, anything you fancied for a few rupees… couldn't trust any of them…'
It's so embarrassing, that man's just being polite. Why can't Dad see it?

‘Well, if we can't leave yet, I'm off to the bar, what can I get you?' Robert asked.

‘I'll have a gin and orange, please.'

Jenny heard Doris's voice behind her. ‘Georgie, come and meet my favourite niece. You didn't have much chance to speak to her earlier. You remember we went to her wedding?'

‘Of course I remember.' He lifted Jenny's hand to his lips.

‘You must both come up and visit us soon. It will be good to see you on your own now you're married. We've got such a lot to chat about. You could even stay with us overnight. I've had some work done to the house since Uncle died. He was never very keen on change. George has been a marvel. Couldn't do enough for me, could you Georgie?' she said, blowing him a kiss. ‘I can inspect your husband properly then.' She turned to Robert as he returned with their drinks. ‘Don't worry I don't bite. Come on Georgie,' she grabbed her husband's hand and led him onto to the dancefloor.

‘Your aunt's quite a character, isn't she? I like her.'

‘She certainly is. Let's join them. I love this record.'

*

‘It must be nearly nine, Jen, let's go,' Robert said, getting up and leaving his third drink half drunk on the table.

Halfway through their journey home from Woolwich, Robert said, ‘What do you think about us changing our car, Jen? We could buy a Ford Anglia, the 105 model, it's got four gears. I've been thinking about it ever since we came back from Germany. This journey today has really made my mind up, it's taking forever.'

‘What about a Mini? It's more modern and it would match my dress.'

‘I've got used to Fords now. I can manage the repairs myself. It will be cheaper than taking it to the garage.'

He put his hand on Jenny's thigh. ‘They're asleep,' he whispered, turning his head towards her parents slumped on the back seat.

‘What a luxury having a heater at last,' Jenny enthused as they scraped a thin layer of ice from the windscreen, remembering how she had to wrap a tartan blanket over her legs in their Ford Popular.

‘And four gears,' Robert added.

Robert's parents lived in a 1930's semi on the northern edge of Brighton. Maggie had suggested that they stay for dinner when Robert had phoned. As they drove up the hill towards their house Jenny wondered why Robert was so keen to show his parents the car. It was dark for God's sake, and he was always saying how unhappy he had been at home. When he had told her that, she had told him about her adoption. She had worried that once he knew he wouldn't want to see her again. So, when on their next date, she spotted him walking towards her, his face breaking into a smile; she decided there and then that she would marry him.

‘It's turquoise, but it doesn't look like it under the streetlamp. Look at the bodywork, not a patch of rust on it.' Robert shone a torch along the sills of the car.

‘You've got a good one there boy.' Reggie puffed on his pipe.

‘I like the interior, it smells lovely. Not as big as Mr Hunt's car though,' Maggie withdrew her head and slammed the passenger door.

Jenny shivered on the pavement, crossing her arms around her body to keep warm and hoping that the inspection would soon be over. ‘You do like it then Mum?' Robert threw a concerned look at his mother.

‘Yes, but as I said it's not as big inside as Mr Hunt's.'

‘His is the four-door model, the A60, that's why.'

Maggie was a tall woman with rosy cheeks and salt and pepper hair piled high on her head. Jenny thought that nothing Robert did seemed good enough for his mother, and wondered if that was why her first husband had disappeared. ‘Ran off with a tart; we don't speak his name in this house any more,' Robert said he was told. He had a vague memory of sitting at a window, his father waving at him, as he walked down the path for the last time. He had been brought up by Maggie until he was nine, when he acquired a stepfather, Reginald, and later, a half-brother. Jenny liked Reggie, he was fun and easy going.

‘ ‘You look a bit pale, Jenny,' said Maggie.

‘Just a bit cold, it's freezing outside.'

‘Oh, do you think so? I don't feel the cold.' Jenny thought that didn't surprise her, her mother-in-law didn't seem to feel anything. She worked as a receptionist at a doctor's surgery; a strange choice Jenny thought for someone who had no patience with sick people. ‘I thought you might have some exciting news for us, coming round in the middle of the week?'

‘We have,' said Jenny. ‘We're excited about our new car.'

‘Come on, let's have our meal,' Reggie said. ‘I'm starving.'

Whatever her shortcomings, Jenny had to admit that her mother-in-law was a good cook, her meals were substantial. Two pork chops and the plate piled high with vegetables. She took it as a personal affront if anything was left uneaten. ‘That was lovely Maggie, thank you.'

‘Do you think Rob's lost a bit of weight?' Maggie looked at Jenny as if waiting for a diagnosis.

‘I'm fine Mum,' said Robert.

‘Yes, he's fine,' Jenny added.

‘He looks better for being a bit thinner. It's healthier at his age,' Reggie said.

‘Shouldn't you be promoted soon Rob? Three years is a long time to stay at the same level in local government. If you're not careful you'll remain there. I'm right aren't I Reggie?'

‘There's a review shortly, Mum. I'm pretty confident I'll go up a grade. Mr Sutcliffe thinks I've done well since I've been there, and he's the man that counts. David's not here tonight then?' Robert quickly changed the subject.

‘Out with his arty-farty friends,' said Reggie.

Robert looked relieved. Jenny couldn't believe that David was even Robert's half-brother. They were complete opposites – in looks and personality. She had noticed that Maggie favoured her younger son – he could do nothing wrong. It was left to Reggie to discipline him.

‘He's just enjoying himself, he's only young,' Maggie added.

‘Enjoying himself, my arse; at his age I'd been working for four years, and I'd had a haircut.' Reggie rubbed his hand over his shiny scalp fringed with ginger hair. ‘Wish I needed one now.'

*

On their way home Jenny turned to Robert, ‘I can't stand how your mother never comes out with anything directly. She always makes me feel uncomfortable. Look what she said about our car not being as big as so as so's.'

‘Perhaps I ought to have a word with Mr Sutcliffe tomorrow.'

‘No, not yet, wait for the review. As you said, it's not long.'

*

Gail had written to say that although the coming Saturday afternoon wasn't convenient, Jenny could visit the following weekend.

She squinted at the line of faded scraps of paper next to the doorbells, but couldn't see Gail's name. She checked the house number that had been hand painted on the plastered wall. Gail had told her it was a first-floor flat in a converted house in Buckingham Road. She lifted the brass knocker, slammed it against the plate and waited.

‘Jenny, it's so good to see you. It's been so long, come in.'

‘We did bump into each other last winter, but you were in a hurry.'

Gail cast her eyes down and quickly turned away. Her dark hair had grown below her shoulders, and was loosely tied back with an elastic band. Her legs were bare and mottled blue under a brown skirt. Jenny thought she looked thinner in the face than the last time she had seen her.

‘Come through, I'll put the kettle on, mind the pushchair.'

Jenny followed her friend down a dark musty hallway, past a paraffin heater and into the kitchen. A dingy net curtain half covered the sash window. A little boy jumped out from behind a clothes horse, brandishing a water pistol. A jet of water shot into the air and landed on her head. A little girl toddled over and clutched at the hem of her coat.

‘Oh, I'm so sorry,' Gail said, grabbing a nappy from the clothes horse to wipe Jenny's hair.

‘That's O.K. Don't worry about it.'

‘Put that down Mark. Leave Auntie Jenny alone Vicky, or she won't come again,' Gail threatened, as she cleared a pile of clothes from a chair. ‘Sit down Jenny.'

Mark ran back to hide behind the clothes horse while Vicky, still clinging to her coat, stared up at her with china blue eyes. ‘I've brought some presents.' She opened her bag. ‘I hope they're O.K?'

‘I'm sure they will be. You better give them to them now, or we won't get any peace, they seem to have a sixth sense about presents. It's my mum's fault she always brings something for them when she visits. I've told her not to. What do you say?' She looked at the little boy peeping around the nappies.

Mark whispered a thank you, whilst Vicky stuck her thumb in her mouth.

‘So how are you doing Gail? You must be really busy.' Jenny looked behind her as Gail opened the door to a cupboard that hung lopsided on the wall. The shelf was bare apart from a packet of tea, half a packet of biscuits and a bag of sugar.

‘Oh, I can't complain. It's hard with the kids of course. I never get a minute's peace, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Take those toys out onto the landing you two, you can play out there.' Gail put the biscuit packet on the table and sat down. ‘I'll make some tea in a minute, Jenny. Take your coat off and put it on the chair.'

‘Where's Chris?'

‘He's down the bookies. He needs a break from the kids.'

‘Did you go somewhere nice last Saturday? You said it wasn't convenient.'

‘Somewhere nice? Yes we did. We went to Eastbourne on the bus for the day. The kids had a lovely time – there's a really good playground there.' Her face suddenly crumpled. ‘Oh Jenny – I can't lie to you, of course we didn't go to Eastbourne, we don't go anywhere. I didn't want to tell you, but I'm so unhappy, if it wasn't for the children.' A tear rolled down her cheek. She sniffed, ‘I'm sorry.'

Jenny reached out and patted her friend's arm. Gail sniffed again and reaching for a crumpled tea cloth wiped her cheek. ‘Things have got worse since Vicky was born. Chris is out most of the time. He says he feels trapped. I wouldn't mind that so much, but we don't have any money – most weeks he gambles it away as soon as he's been paid – I don't know what to do. If I say anything he gets so angry and hits me, saying it's my fault for getting pregnant,' she sobbed. ‘Jenny I'm so ashamed, I feel it's my fault, that's why I couldn't see you last Saturday. We'd had a row the previous weekend and my eye was still swollen. I didn't want you to see me like that.'

Jenny sat stunned. She remembered how relieved Gail had been when Chris had agreed to marry her.

‘Chris says he's trapped, but I am too aren't I? Mark and Vicky have to sleep in our bedroom. I can never get away from them. I didn't think it would be as bad as this. The worse thing is that I'm frightened of Chris now. I never know when he's going to lose his temper. The best I can hope for now is a council house. I wanted so much more than that.'

‘Perhaps once they're both at school, you could go back to studying?'

‘How could we possibly afford that? Sometimes I have to go without my dinner so there's enough money for Chris and the kids to have theirs. And that's ages away, in the meantime I'm stuck here without any money to do anything, or go anywhere.' More tears fell down her cheek.

‘I'm so sorry Gail,' Jenny stood up and hugged her friend. ‘I'll come and see you again soon, if you'd like me to?'

Gail nodded and wiped her face. ‘That's enough about me, and my problems. Like Chris says, it's my own stupid fault. I'll make us some tea. How are you finding married life?'

‘Good. We've just changed our car.' She decided she wouldn't tell her about their trip to Germany.

‘Tell me all about Robert then. Oh, by the way my cousin's getting married.'

Jenny remembered that Martin's family had lived next door. ‘Does she still live in Hove?'

‘Yes, until she gets married.'

Jenny thought there was no point in asking Gail about Martin's family. ‘Did you watch
Top of the Pops
last week?' she said, in an effort to cheer her friend.

‘Yes I did.'

‘Did you know that Spence Bartlett, the lead guitarist with The Sinners, went to our junior school? He's Spencer Whittaker.'

‘No, I didn't. I knew he came from Brighton though. I can't believe it's him. I remember him sitting on his own at the back of the coach; on that day we went to London.'

‘I know, you wouldn't believe it was the same person would you?' Jenny said. ‘He was tiny and always had a runny nose. He never had any friends, now he's got all those fans. If his life can change so much, yours can too.'

For the third time in ten minutes, Jenny cast her eyes up at the clock on the kitchen wall and willed the hands to move faster. Robert's coming-home time was now unpredictable. His promotion had been later than expected, and he had started to search the situations vacant pages of the
Mid-Sussex Times
when fate intervened. Mr Sutcliffe collapsed and died of a brain haemorrhage. Robert immediately oversaw his projects, and his promotion had been confirmed at Christmas. Jenny thought it was a bad omen – dead man's shoes.

In the New Year they had scraped together the deposit on a two-bedroom terraced house, near the top of the High Street. The walls of the prison loomed large from their small lounge. ‘You can catch the bus to Brighton now, instead of the train. It'll save you walking up the hills,' Robert had said.

Jenny beat the batter furiously with a fork, and looked up at the clock again.
It takes him longer to walk home, and he might have had to shelter from the rain. It's no good, I'm not making this. I can't concentrate. These sausages are going back into the fridge. We'll have ham salad instead.
The front door slammed and she heard Robert say, ‘I'm soaking wet Jen, it's pouring down out there.'

Jenny flung herself into his arms. 'Robert, I'm pregnant.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Of course I am. I've just come from the doctors. I left work early.'

‘That's fantastic!' he said kissing her on her lips. Raindrops slid from his face onto hers. ‘You thought you might be didn't you?'

‘Yes, but it seemed too soon after I stopped taking the pill.'

‘I love you Mrs Maynard, I can start building that train set now.'

‘Not so fast, it might be a girl.'

‘I don't care. I'll still build it. Quick, who can we tell, your parents?'

‘No, let's tell yours first.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes.'

*

‘Well this is a surprise,' Maggie said as she opened the door.

‘Come in, come in, it's pouring down out there,' Reggie said, peering around the door to the lounge.

‘Jenny's just had it confirmed Mum. We're expecting a baby. We just had to tell someone.'

‘Well, it's not before time, is it Rob? Reggie and I were wondering if you were up to it.'

‘For God's sake, Mum.'

Reggie stood behind his wife and winked at Jenny, ‘Don't take any notice of Maggie. She's thrilled really, come in and tell us all about it. How are you feeling?'

‘Well, I haven't been sick. I was expecting to; just a bit queasy sometimes.'

‘Well that's good,' chipped Maggie. ‘Remember pregnancy's not an illness, Jenny. It's a natural thing for a woman. You'll be fine.'

*

‘I can't believe that we haven't you told your mum and dad yet,' Robert said two weeks later. ‘I'd have thought that you'd want to tell them straight away, even before mine. You didn't even want to visit them last Sunday.'

How could she say that she was afraid to tell them? That she was scared of hurting her mother; of reminding her of what she had lost.

‘Of course I want to tell them. I didn't feel well last week. That's why I didn't go over. We'll tell them on Sunday. I'll be three months then.'

*

‘Mum missed you last Sunday,' Charlie lit another cigarette and continued reading the
News of the World.

Jenny perched nervously on the edge of the sofa and dug her fingernail into her thumb. ‘Oh I wasn't very well last week.'

‘Probably that stomach bug that's going around,' Charlie said from behind the pages.

‘I don't know why you buy that paper, Dad. It's a load of rubbish.'

‘It's for the football results.'

‘But you know the results. You always take them down on Saturdays.'

‘Leave him alone Jen. Don't take any notice of her Dad.'

‘Are you better now Jenny? You haven't eaten your biscuits,' Alice asked as she picked up her knitting.

Jenny bit her lower lip. She couldn't put it off any longer. Anyone would think that she was an unmarried mother. ‘Yes, I'm fine. I just feel hot. It's so sticky outside. How are you Mum?'

‘Oh you know, just the same, always having to dash to the loo. That doesn't improve. I don't suppose it ever will.'

‘I think you've put on some weight.'

‘Well I try my best, but I have to force myself to eat, because I know I'll pay for it afterwards.'

Jenny drew a deep breath and stared hard at the Eiffel Tower on the mantelpiece. ‘Robert and I… We're expecting a baby. It's due next January,' she blurted.

Colour drained from Alice's face and Charlie's paper dropped across his knees. For a second she glimpsed their conflicting emotions.

‘That's wonderful news – congratulations.' Charlie stood up – the sheets dropping to the floor – and went over to the bureau. He pulled the cork from a bottle of sherry and filled four glasses. ‘Congratulations to both of you.' He raised his glass.

‘Yes, that's lovely news,' Alice added, putting her knitting aside. She stood up, went over to the sofa and gave Jenny a hug.

I could ask them now
, Jenny thought, remembering what the doctor had said when he had confirmed her pregnancy.
‘Do you have any family history of pregnancy problems?'

‘I don't know; I'm adopted,'
she'd replied feeling embarrassed, and had watched as he scribbled on her notes.

She should ask them now if they knew anything about her birth parents. It was the right time. But she couldn't form the words, and the moment passed.

*

Jenny stood in the toilet cubicle and panicked at the scarlet stain on her knickers. ‘Oh no!' she cried and left work immediately. The pains started as she walked alongside the prison walls towards their house.

Later that evening, their doctor stood at the end of their bed holding a kidney dish and examined the expelled contents of Jenny's uterus. ‘I'm afraid you've lost the baby Mrs Maynard. I'm so sorry, but you're both young. You can try again in a couple of months. There's no reason to think it will happen again.'

Jenny lay in bed and cried for three days. Robert comforted her by making endless cups of tea, and repeating the doctor's words every time he entered their bedroom. Jenny thought back to Alan's wedding, when she had held her cousin Leslie's baby. At first it had felt awkward as she tried to manoeuvre him into position; and he made her arms ache. But as she stared at him, his eyes scrunched shut, a desire for a child of her own had swept over her like a tidal wave. She remembered wondering if it was a biological trick played on women to make them reproduce once they had caught their man. She had pleaded with Robert for a child. ‘Don't be ridiculous Jenny,' he had said. ‘We don't want a baby; we've only been married six months. We agreed we would wait two years.' Her desire had vanished with their normal routine, until now.

On the fourth day Robert said, ‘Jen, shall I bring the radio in? It's fantastic, Apollo 11's about to re-enter the atmosphere. I've been listening in the kitchen. It might take your mind off things.'

‘Things, things, what do you mean things?' she yelled. ‘We've just lost our baby, for Christ's sake. Go away – I don't want to listen to the radio. I don't care about a man on the bloody moon.'