The Would-Begetter Read Free Page A

fancy in a big way but mindful of the task ahead, as he and Jess drove back to the
Chronicle
building, he forced himself dutifully to run through his carefully considered list of ‘essential wifely qualities’ to assess her marks out of ten:
    Beauty – 6ish
    Personality – bit sharp, 5?
    Sex appeal – 7, maybe 8?
    Poise/Elegance – 10 definitely
    Intelligence – 9 (maybe a mixed blessing?)
    Wealth – 8 or more?
    Class/Accent – 10
    Suitable age range – 3oish. Perfect – 10
    Child-bearing hips – Mmmm, only 3
    Maternal potential – Hard to tell, 5+?
    Genetic endowment, diseases etc. – Unknown, but promising
    Politics – unknown
    Status – unmarried, available? 10 or nil.
    Useful connections – 9?
    Bingo! he thought, screwing up his face with the effort of mental arithmetic. That comes to a minimum of… 82, andpotentially a great deal more, especially if she can cook. I must do some research. Caroline Moffat could be THE ONE!
    ‘Have you got a pain?’ Jess asked.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Well, you’re making awful faces.’
    ‘I’m thinking.’ Should I put my life-plan suggestion to Caroline, Hector wondered, or should I go ahead with it and not tell her? I know, I’ll sound out the female response – maybe not a universal one, but adequate. I’ll ask Jess.
    ‘Must be agonising,’ Jess said, ‘activating all those little synapses in the brain, and simultaneously too.’
    ‘Very funny. Look Jess, supposing someone made you a proposition along the lines of, “Would you be prepared to have my baby first and then get married afterwards,” what would you say?’
    ‘You don’t mean…?’ Jess flushed scarlet.
    ‘No!
Not you, you complete and utter noodle. Good Lord, whatever next! I was speaking purely theoretically; asking your opinion, as a woman.’
    There was a pregnant silence. Hector glanced sideways and saw, to his consternation, that Jess looked about to burst into tears.
    ‘Hey!’ he said, slowing the car down. ‘I haven’t upset you, have I? I wouldn’t do that for the world, Jessy-boot, you know that. I just wanted an intelligent, unbiased womanly opinion, so who better to ask than you?’
    ‘It’s okay,’ Jess said, smiling hard. ‘It’s nothing. I’ve just got… an eyelash… in my eye.’ She reached into the sleeve of her jersey and then, taking her glasses off, dabbed at her face with a tissue.
    ‘Better now?’
    ‘Fine.’
    ‘So what do you think Miss Average would reply to such a proposition?’ Hector stepped on the accelerator again.
    ‘I’m not a great expert in such matters,’ Jess said, flung back against her seat by the unexpected thrust, ‘but I think she’d probably tell you to get knotted!’
    ‘Putting you through,’ Wendy Bing cooed in her carefully modulated telephone voice. She pressed a button and lookedup from the switchboard just as Hector and Jess came in through the
Chronicle’s
swing doors. Wendy wondered why Jess didn’t make more of herself. With a body as skinny as hers, she could wear anything, so why did she have to choose such coarse mannish fabrics, and such a determinedly unfem-inine look? And why, while she was about it, didn’t she get herself some contact lenses and make herself less owl-like? Wendy exhaled in disapproval and stroked her own right shoulder reflectively. Beneath her fingers the pink angora sweater felt baby-soft, and she deliberately left her hand where it was whilst Hector approached, so that he would be bound to notice that its fourth finger was now invitingly ring-free.
    When she had passed thirty and yet remained puzzlingly single, Wendy had invented a fiancé to keep her end up. But when she had gathered that Hector was getting divorced, she had chucked the fake diamond into the bin and had lived in hope ever since.
    ‘Hi Wend,’ Hector said breezily. ‘I really must stop saying that, mustn’t I? Sounds just like “High wind”. Any messages for me?’
    Wendy smiled brilliantly at him. ‘Just the one, on