To Have and to Hold Read Free

it?’ she said.
    â€˜Terrible,’ said Ken, and went to his car.
    All along the street beside the hospital the parking spaces were full. Viv stopped the car on a double yellow line and turned off the engine. In a perverse way she wanted to get a ticket and a small ten pounds’ worth of suffering. ‘Life’s not fair!’ her father used to shout at them, when they were too young to realize the truth. What had Viv done to deserve two strong children, with hair she could brush, that they could now brush themselves, and clever fingers, and complaints about school, and letters that they wrote, in unstamped envelopes, to the Dennis the Menace Fan Club? Two girls, with their fragrant breathing at night and their scattered Pentels on the floor which drove Viv mad because nobody put the tops on, but look what happened in the morning – the girls opened their eyes, they were alive, they had to be bullied to do their teeth.
    Viv got out of the car. Today she brought flowers; yesterday there had been no time. She walked towards the hospital steps and stopped. Ken’s car was parked there. She hesitated. Inside his car it was as neat as always, with his Zenith Dry Rot files on the passenger seat, just like a normal Monday. The ashtray was full.
    Viv walked back to her car and sat inside it. People were going into the hospital, carrying flowers. She waited in the car, amongst the debris of her family life – mud from the allotment, crumbs, wrappers, and
My Naughty Little Sister
cassettes, all out of their boxes. Did she deserve children, that she couldn’t be bothered to put back their tapes? She started to do so. Every few moments she glanced at the hospital steps, and that was how she saw her mother.
    Viv hurried from the car.
    â€˜Mum!’ She grabbed her arm.
    Irene turned. ‘Blimey, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Still, there’s worse places to have one.’
    â€˜Ken’s in there.’ She pointed to the building. ‘Let’s wait in my car.’
    Irene sat in the passenger seat. ‘You and your mobile dustbin,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘Beats me how Ollie puts up with it.’
    Viv indicated the hospital. ‘I think we should let them have some time together.’
    â€˜They’ll have plenty of time together when she comes out.’
    â€˜Don’t!’
    â€˜I’m just saying now’s the time to rally round. The poor pet. How did she seem yesterday?’
    â€˜She tried to be bright. I wish she hadn’t felt she should.’
    â€˜Was it a little boy or girl?’
    â€˜I didn’t ask.’ Viv watched the hospital steps. Down them walked a couple, the woman carrying a new-born baby wrapped in a shawl, small as a doll. The husband carried her case, and opened their car door for her to get in.
    â€˜The poor pet,’ said Irene again. ‘Oh my God.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Look who’s here.’
    Douglas was walking towards them. He, too, was carrying flowers. Viv got out of the car again.
    â€˜Hello, Dad.’
    She told him about Ken. At the car door he hesitated.
    â€˜Hello, Reenie.’
    She opened the back door for him and he got in.
    â€˜Well, well,’ he said, ‘This is cosy.’
    There was a silence.
    Irene looked in the driving mirror. ‘What’s those things?’
    â€˜What things?’ said Douglas.
    â€˜Sideboards. You didn’t have them last time.’ She turned to inspect her ex-husband properly.
    â€˜No?’
    â€˜Sideboards. Like a pop star.’
    Douglas smiled. ‘Nobody’s compared me to a pop star before.’
    â€˜I didn’t.’
    Another silence. The car felt cramped. Irene took out her cigarettes and offered one to Douglas.
    â€˜No thanks.’
    She stared. ‘Given up?’
    He nodded. Irene raised her eyebrows and looked at Viv. Viv shrugged.
    â€˜Bit late, isn’t it?’ said Irene.
    â€˜Nothing’s