Or taking time out to start a family, Ruth said. She screwed her face up at him in an awful simper. I think the first few years are so precious! And I can always come back into it when the baby starts school.
Boarding school, David supplemented. Stay home with him until he sets off for boarding school. Just take eleven years off. Whats that, after all? Itll pass in a flash.
No child of mine is boarding! I think a mother should stay home until the children are grown, Ruth said earnestly. University age at least.
First job, David corrected her. Give them a stable start. You can come back to work twenty-one years from now.
Oh, but the grandchildren will need me! Ruth exclaimed.
Ah, yes, the magic years. So you could come back to work when youreperhapssixty?
Ruth looked thoughtful. Id like to do a couple more months before I retire, she said. I really am a career girl, you know.
They broke off and smiled at each other. Youre a mate, David said. And youre a good journalist too. Theyre mad getting rid of you. Youre worth two or three of some of them.
Last in, first out, Ruth said. Youre better than them too.
He shrugged. So what will you do?
Ruth hesitated. The forces are massing a bit, she said hesitantly. She was not sure how much to tell David. Her powerful loyalty to Patrick usually kept her silent. Patricks parents have a cottage near them that has come up for sale. Patricks always wanted it. Hes getting promoted, which is more money and better hours. And we have been married four, nearly five years. There is a kind of inevitability about what happens next.
David had never learned tact. What dyou mean: what happens next? Dyou mean a baby?
Ruth hesitated. Eventually, yes, of course, she said. But not right now. I wanted to work up a bit, you know. I did want to work for the BBC. I even thought about television.
You always said you were going to travel, he reminded her. Research your roots. Go back to America and find your missing millionaire relations.
If Im freelance thatll be easier.
Not with a baby, David reminded her.
Ruth was silent.
I suppose there is such a thing as contraception, David said lightly. A womans right to choose and all that. We are in the nineties. Or did I miss something?
Swing back to family values, Ruth said briskly. Women in the home and crime off the streets.
He chuckled and was about to cap the joke but stopped himself. No, hang on a minute, he said. I dont get this. I never thought you were the maternal type, Ruth. You dont really want a baby, do you?
Ruth was about to agree with him, but again her loyalty to Patrick silenced her. She nodded to the barman to give them another round of drinks and busied herself with paying him. You dont understand, she said. Patricks got this very established conventional sort of family, and hes a very conventional sort of man She looked to see if David was nodding in agreement. He was not.
Theyre very influential, she said weakly. Its very difficult to argue with them. And of course they want us to move house, and of course, sooner or later, theyll expect a baby.
Come on, David said irritably. Itll be you that expects it, and you that gives birth. If you dont want to have a baby, you must just say no.
Ruth was silent. David realized he had been too abrupt. Cant you just say no?
She turned to look at him. Oh, David, she said. You know me as well as anybody. I never had any family life worth a damn. When I met Patrick and he took me home, I suddenly saw somewhere I could belong. And they took me in, and now theyre my family. I dont want to spoil it. We see them practically every Sunday
Dyou know what I do on Sunday mornings? David interrupted. I dont get up till eleven. I take the papers back to bed with me and read all the trivial bits the travel sections and the style sections and the magazines. When the pubs open I walk across the park to The Fountain and I have a drink with some people there. Then I take a curry back home, and I read all the papers, and watch the telly. Then if I feel energetic I go for a jog. And if I feel lazy I do nothing. And in the evening I go round to see someone I like, or people come round and see me. I cant imagine having to be polite all day to someones mum and dad.
Theyre my mum and dad, she said.
He shook his head. No, theyre not.
He saw, as she turned away from him, that he had gone too far. Sorry, he said. He shifted his barstool closer and put his hand on her knee. Tell you what, come back to my flat with me, he said. Ill read last Sundays papers to you.
Ruth gave him a wan smile, picked up his hand, and dropped it lightly in his lap. Married woman, she said. As you well know.
Wasted on matrimony, he said. That sexy smile of yours. I should have taken my chance with you when I had it, when you were young and stupid, before you found Prince Charming and got stuck in the castle.
Dont be silly, she said. Im very happy.
David bit back the response. Well, we both are! he said, lapsing into irony again. What with our vivid emotional lives and our glittering careers! Speaking of which what about our glittering careers? What will you do?
Ill look round, she said. And Ill do some local pieces for James. I can keep my hand in and they wont look bad on a CV. What about you?
I need a job, David said. I can freelance for a week or so, but when the money runs out I need a pay cheque. Ill be sweeping the streets, I reckon.
Ruth giggled suddenly, her face brightening. Walking them more like, she said. A tart like you. You could pop down to the docks.
David smiled back at her. I try to keep my self-respect, he said primly. But if you know any rich old women I could be tempted. What about your mother-in-law? Would she fancy a fling with a young gigolo? Is she the toyboy type?
Ruth snorted into her drink. Absolutely, she said. You could pop out on Sunday afternoons and rendezvous in that bloody cottage!
Two
RUTH WAS LATE at the restaurant, and her high spirits evaporated when she saw Patricks sulky face over the large menu.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, she said as she slipped onto the bench seat opposite him. I went out for a drink with David and I didnt watch the time.
Patricks bright blue eyes widened in surprise. Well, thanks very much, he said. I hurried here to be with you and then I sit here on my own while you go boozing with some guy from work.
Hes just been made redundant, Ruth said. And I was too.
Patrick, who had been about to continue his complaint, was abruptly silenced. What?
Ive been made redundant, Ruth said. Me and David and someone else. Were all out at the end of the week with a months pay in hand. They offered us freelance work.
Patricks face was radiant. Well, what a coincidence! he said. Arent things just working out for us?
Patricks face was radiant. Well, what a coincidence! he said. Arent things just working out for us?
Not exactly, Ruth said rather tartly, fired by David and by two double gins. I wanted to keep my job; and if I left it I wanted to go somewhere better. I didnt want to get the sack and have a baby as second best.
Patrick quickly summoned the waiter. Dyou want spaghetti, darling? And salad?
Yes.
Patrick ordered and poured Ruth a glass of wine. Youre upset, he said soothingly. Poor darling. How disappointing. Dont feel too bad about it. Well look round. Well find you another job. There must be people who would snap you up. Youre so bright and a damn fine journalist.
Ruths mouth quivered. I liked it there! she said miserably. And I was doing some really good stories. I even scooped your lot a couple of times.
Youre an excellent journalist, he said. Thats why Im so confident youll find work at once somewhere elseif you want it.
As Ruth lifted her head to protest, he held up his hand. Not another word! he said. Youve had a shock. We wont talk plans tonight. Not a word about jobs or flats or cottages. Not a word! Let me tell you about the interview I did with Clark today youll die.
Patrick told Ruth a story and she laughed politely. Their food came and Patrick continued to lay himself out to please her. He was witty and he could be charming. Ruth, enjoying the mixture of red wine and gin, found herself laughing at his stories and capping them with stories of her own. It was midnight before they left the restaurant, and Patrick put his arm around her as they walked home together.
I love you, he said softly in her ear as they opened the front door and went into the warm hall.
They went upstairs together and Ruth turned to embrace him in the bedroom. Patrick held her close and kissed her with warm, seductive kisses. It was so unusual for them to make love during the week that Ruth was slow to respond. She stayed in his arms, content to be kissed, her eyes closed.
Into bed with you, Mrs Cleary, Patrick said and gave her a little push towards the bed. Ruth lay back and stretched luxuriously. Patrick dropped his head and nudged sexily at her breasts, his hands pushing up her skirt until he found the waistband of her tights.
Patrick! Ruth said. She half sat up. Perhaps I had better go to the bathroom! she said. She meant that she needed to put in her diaphragm, their only contraception.
I want you, he said urgently. I want you right now.
Ruth gasped with surprised delight at his urgency. He was stripping down her tights and panties, and kicking off his own shoes. Ruth giggled drunkenly, delightedly.
I have to go, she protested.
Patrick shucked off his trousers and pants in one swift movement and swarmed up over her, kissing her neck and her ears. His hand reached behind her back and undid her bra, slid his hand under the lace and caressed her breast. Ruth felt her desire rising, felt herself careless, sexy, urgent.
Come on, Ruth, he whispered. Like when we were first lovers. Lets take a chance. Lets take a sexy chance, Ruth. I want to be right inside you with nothing between us. Come on, darling, I want to.
His fingers stroked insistently between her legs. Ruth, drunk on wine and drunk with desire, protested inarticulately but could not bring herself to stop. In a small sober part of her mind she was watching him, calculating the days from her last period, fearing the sudden rush of his desire, terrified of pregnancy.
He rolled on top of her, moving steadily and deliciously, Ruth opened her legs and felt her desire rise and rise to match his, but then her caution chilled her. Patrick, we shouldnt she started to say.
With a sudden delighted groan he came inside her.
Ruths routine changed little after her weeks notice expired and she became freelance. She left home at the usual time and she came home, if anything, later than usual. It was as if she were afraid that any slackening would prompt Patrick to exploit her unemployment.
You could take it easy, he said on the first Monday.
Better not, Ruth said. I want to show them Im serious about getting work.
Patrick had not pursued his themethat Ruth could rest, or could tidy the flat, or could visit his mother and see the cottage. He had kissed her and left for work. He was in less of a hurry now in the mornings. He strolled to his car and let the engine warm and the light frost melt from the windscreen before he drove away. He no longer had to be in at the television newsroom first; he now had status. He had a parking slot of his own outside the building and a secretary who had to be in before him to open his post. Patricks stock had risen dramatically, and his timekeeping could decline. Some mornings in November it was Ruth who was up first and Patrick who lured her back to bed. On at least two mornings they made love without contraception. Patrick had been urgent and seductive and Ruth could not refuse him. She was flattered by his desire and enchanted by its sudden urgency. One morning she was half asleep as he slid inside her and she woke too slowly to resist. One morning she acquiesced with a sleepy smile. Escaping pregnancy the first time, she was becoming reckless.
In mid-December she felt sick in the mornings and felt tired at work. She was trying to persuade the afternoon show producer to commission a series on local Bristol history.
Something about industry, she suggested. From shipbuilding to building Concorde at Filton. We could call it Bristol Fashion.
Sounds a bit earnest, he criticized.
It could be fun, she said. Some old historical journals. I could read them. And some old people talking about working on the docks and in the aircraft industry before the war. Theres loads of stuff at the museum.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. Are you sure? Oh, well, maybe. See what you can dig up. But nothing too dreary, Ruth. Nothing too historical. Bright and snappy. You know the kind of thing.
She closed his office door quietly behind her and went to the ladies room. She ran the cold-water tap and splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth.
One of the newsroom copy takers, combing her hair before the mirror, glanced around. Are you all right, Ruth? You look as white as a sheet.
I feel funny, Ruth said.
The woman looked at her a little closer. How funny?
I feel really sick, and dreadfully tired.
The woman gave her a smiling look, full of meaning. Not up the spout, are you?
Ruth shot her a sudden wide-eyed look. No! I cant possibly be.
Not overdue?
I dont knowId have to lookIm a bit scatty about it
The woman, with two children of her own at school, shrugged her shoulders. Maybe its just something you ate, she said.
Probably, Ruth said hastily. Probably thats all.
The woman went out, leaving Ruth alone. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her dark, smooth bobbed hair framed her pale face, her large dark eyes. She looked scared, she looked sickly. Ruth shook her head. She could not see herself as a woman who might be pregnant. She had an image of herself as a girl too young, too unready for a womans task of pregnancy.