Trouble Read Free Page B

had it worked out, and was clock-watching. I’ll let her stew till ten-thirty, then I’ll call. He didn’t phone when he first arrived, he didn’t wait till after lunch. Those are the times he usually calls. But this wasn’t even any old time, it was on the dot.’
    ‘Annette, that’s insane,’ said Gilda. ‘Ten-thirty is as much any old time as any other. It just happened to be on the dot.’
    ‘I suppose so,’ said Annette. ‘Now I’m feeling uneasy again. There’s a sub-text I don’t understand. Well, I expect whatever it is will emerge: push itself out like the alien in the film, bursting out of the ribcage.’
    ‘What a horrid image,’ said Gilda. ‘It can’t be good for the baby.’
    Annette lay down on the marital bed and put Optrex pads on her eyes.
    ‘Mum?’
    ‘Hello, Susan.’
    ‘Are you okay? I’ve brought you a cup of tea.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘You haven’t been crying?’
    ‘Of course not. Being pregnant makes your eyes puffy.’
    ‘Yuk. It’s time you had new wallpaper in here. This lot’s dingy.’
    ‘It’s how Spicer and I like it,’ said Annette.
    ‘Why? It’s early eighties drear. Browny dinge.’
    ‘Because Spicer and I put it up together the week we moved in,’ said Annette. ‘There was no money for decorators.’
    ‘That’s why the pattern’s slipped,’ said Susan. ‘None of the little flowers match up. It’s a mess, and always has been.’
    ‘If it’s a mess it’s because you and Jason were crawling round our ankles,’ said Annette, ‘and tripping us up. Well, you were toddling: Jason was crawling. We like it the way it is. It’s our keepsake: our memento of the beginning.’
    ‘That’s nice,’ said Susan.
    ‘And if we tried to take it down,’ said Annette, ‘the whole wall would come down with it. We’d have to re-plaster the room. That wallpaper was too heavy when it went up ten years ago and it’s heavier still today.’
    ‘That isn’t scientifically possible,’ said Susan.
    ‘Yes it is,’ said Annette. ‘It has sopped up pleasure, uxorious bliss.’
    ‘What does that mean?’ asked Susan.
    ‘Never mind,’ said Annette.
    ‘I’ll look it up,’ said Susan.
    ‘Look away,’ said Annette.
    The phone rang. Annette stretched out her hand. It was Gilda.
    ‘Annette? Did I disturb you?’
    ‘No. Not really,’ said Annette.
    ‘I think I know what the matter is,’ said Gilda.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Your novel,’ said Gilda. ‘He’s jealous because you’re publishing a novel.’
    ‘Why should Spicer be jealous of a novel?’ asked Annette. ‘It isn’t even a proper novel. It’s a novella. I only wrote it for fun. The children were growing up, and work was drying up, and I had some time left over. And it isn’t coming out for months and months. No, that can’t be the matter.’
    ‘Steve says it might be,’ said Gilda. ‘Steve says perhaps your novella is about Spicer.’
    ‘Of course it isn’t about Spicer,’ said Annette. ‘If it’s about anyone it’s about my parents, and not even them, really. No, that’s a silly idea. It was Spicer who gave the manuscript to Ernie Gromback. It was Spicer who wanted it to see the light of day. I wanted to just put it in a drawer and forget it. Do you know Ernie Gromback the publisher?’
    ‘Everyone knows Ernie Gromback,’ said Gilda. ‘He’s given herpes to at least a dozen people I know.’
    ‘That’s beside the point,’ said Annette. ‘And I’m sure it isn’t true.’
    ‘Perhaps Spicer assumed Ernie Gromback would turn the manuscript down and put you off writing novels for ever.’
    ‘Well Ernie Gromback didn’t turn it down,’ said Annette, ‘and why on earth should Spicer want to put me off writing novels? It might bring in some money.’
    ‘Because he’s the kind of man who needs a woman’s full attention,’ said Gilda, ‘money or not.’
    ‘Sometimes I think you don’t like Spicer very much,’ said Annette.
    ‘You asked my opinion and I gave it,’ said Gilda.