For Freddie, it had been nothing like that. Another lover, another conquest, no doubt all of them beautiful – some more than she – some more sensuous, some more experienced, some undoubtedly younger. They had made a little magic, no doubt of that, rather as they did when they worked together, for what did he do then than make love to her with his camera, and she, responding through his lens, drove him on? But that had been the end of it until the next assignment, the next assignation; he would recoil at what she had to tell him, if she did, and so of course she would not.
But she shrank from the sensible thing, the wise thing. She found herself in a whirlwind of distress whenever she thought about it, about tearing this tiny precious growing thing from its safe haven, abandoning it, and to what? What became of these small live creatures – were they just disposed of, flushed down the clinic lavatory, thrown into its sluice? The thought was impossible to bear. Whatever else she did, she could not do that, and long before the train reached York station, she had made that decision at least. For all the others she had, at the very least, time.
‘Oh, Alice, how lovely. How very, very lovely. I’m so happy for you.’
‘I’m pretty happy for myself.’
‘And – when?’
‘April. A spring baby.’
‘Is Tom all right?’
‘Yes, he’s very happy. I know what you mean – I thought it might make him sad or anxious, but no, he’s just delighted. With himself as well as me.’
Jillie laughed. ‘Men!’
‘I know. My sentiments exactly. Now I want to ask you something.’
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to be the godmother. Will you?’
‘Oh, Alice, I’d love that. Thank you. Of course I will.’
‘Good. The only one, as I’m determined it will be a boy. Actually, even if it’s a girl, I still don’t want you having to share her. Tom won’t care if we have two godparents or twenty, he’s a total non-believer, as you know – only has things like christenings and weddings to keep me and my parents happy.’
‘It’s odd, that.’
‘I know what you mean. When he goes to see Laura at the little churchyard, I wonder where he thinks she is, if anywhere. I mean, he does still go, quite often –’
‘Do you mind?’
‘Sort of. But – I shouldn’t. I’ve never asked him about it. Although he hardly ever talks about her, except to say things about her political beliefs, or her teaching methods, I don’t think he’d refuse to answer if I asked him.’
‘He never suggests you go with him?’
‘Never,’ said Alice.
‘Or that you’d like to?’
‘No. I’m not sure that I want to, but – I do wish he’d ask. It really does make me feel very – very shut out. And of course I worry about her, all the time.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, whether I’m doing well enough. Living up to her. Whether she made a fuss about being sick, or whether she complained about being tired all the time. It’s awfully difficult, competing with somebody perfect.’
‘Alice,’ said Jillie firmly, ‘you’ll drive yourself mad. You said yourself that Tom said she wasn’t perfect, and you just have to accept that. He loves you, he’s told you so many times.’
‘I know,’ said Alice. ‘Most of the time I do manage. But I still feel he’s shutting me out. And this is worse. More difficult. We’re living through what took her away from him.’
‘Yes, but you said he’s beside himself with happiness. You have to accept that, or you’ll spoil the whole thing for yourself and him. I can see how hard it is, but you just have to. Now look, I wasn’t going to tell you, steal your thunder, but I’m going to distract you. I’ve got some news.’
‘Oh, Jillie, what? What what what?’
‘We’ve sort of got a date. And it’s really good, because you’ll be over the baby, and I want you, of course, to be matron of honour.’
Alice squealed with pleasure, hurled herself into Jillie’s arms.
‘Jillie, Jillie. That is so lovely. When?’
‘July next year. I just finally put my foot down. I said June or nothing and he said not June, and I was all ready to throw the ring at him, but then he said he was delivering his paper in June, you know the one on premature babies, but how would July be? So . . .’
‘So that’s wonderful,’ said Alice. ‘And I’d adore to be your matron of honour.’ And then added, looking panic-stricken. ‘What on earth does a matron of honour wear?’
Every milestone made him more terrified, more amazed at what he had done. Getting properly involved with her. Realising how much he loved her. Telling her he loved her. Getting engaged to her. Celebrating it with that ridiculously excessive party. And now agreeing to a date. Why had he done this, why? Why hadn’t he listened to himself? He knew, of course: it was safety, the fading of the likelihood of discovery; respectability, a seal on his successful life.
He had resisted talking to Ludo for a long time; it formalised the folly, let the daylight in. But finally, after a particularly demon-filled night, he sought him out, unloaded his fears, sought counsel. And Ludo had been wonderfully supportive, had held out for him, tantalisingly, the example of his own happy, fruitful marriage.
‘Honestly, Ned, marrying Cecily was the best thing I ever did. She’s such a sweetheart, and without blowing my own trumpet, I think I can say I’ve made her very happy. I adore the children – you can’t beat a family, for sheer, bloody contentment.’
‘No,’ said Ned. ‘I’m sure. But – did you want – I mean, did you . . .’
‘Of course,’ said Ludo. ‘Well, I loved her. I wanted to be married to her. I wanted to be married. So much.’
‘Yes, but –’
‘But if you really want to know, I was also in a bit of a pickle. I’d got a bit over-involved with a rotter. There was talk. He began to threaten me and I was extremely scared. I’d have lost my job, my friends, well, most of them. Nobody who hasn’t lived through that fear can possibly begin to imagine the total horror of it.’
Ned, very soberly, said, ‘It’s all-consuming. It invades you. Fear not just of disgrace but the loss of everything you’ve got.’
‘Some people say they’re going to make a stand, and look what happens to them. End of a normal life. Unless they’re artists or actors. They seem to be all right. They have each other, they’re not sweating, alone, afraid to do anything in case it gives them away. There’s a sort of respectability all of its own. If you’re rich and famous like Cecil Beaton, fine. Society loves them, says what fun they are. Quite a cachet to have at cocktail parties and so on. But I’m a stockbroker, Ned. What would have happened to me? Clients all vanished. Off every hostess’s list. Probably have had to go and live abroad. My father would have insisted on that. Anyway, I chose Cecily. And it’s been marvellous. As it will be for you. Courage, old chap. You’re not mixed up with anyone dangerous, are you?’
‘No, no,’ said Ned. ‘I just – sometimes – still go to one of the clubs, you know. Practically throw up before and after, for fear someone sees me. Or knows me.’
‘Well, as long as it’s only the clubs. Not those pubs. They’re dangerous places.’
‘I know. But I need to feel I’m with my own kind. Just occasionally.’
‘Well, that’ll have to stop,’ said Ludo. ‘After you’re married.’