The Unmarried Husband Page 4

  Now, she thought wearily, there would be another shouting match, and they would arrive at the restaurant with tempers frayed, if they got there at all. Lucy might just not turn up at all. But turn up she did. Five minutes later. In a rush, and full of apologies.

  ‘Honestly, Mum, I completely forgot. I had to go to the library to check out something for English lit, then I wanted to see Mr Thomas about some maths homework, and by the time I looked at my watch it was after six!’ She said this in the voice of someone who was amazed that time could play such a dirty trick on them. ‘When do we need to leave?’

  ‘In five minutes. The taxi’s booked...’

  ‘Okay.’

  Jessica sat back, closed her eyes and felt like someone who had been caught in the path of a wayward tornado. She heard the sound of the shower, rushed footsteps, followed by the slamming of cupboard doors, then Lucy appeared in the doorway dressed in a long black skirt, a pair of ankle boots with laces which had seen better days, and—where on earth had that T-shirt come, from?

  ‘You can’t go dressed like that,’ Jessica told her flatly, standing up.

  ‘It’s a proper restaurant, Luce, not a burger bar. And that T-shirt is at least ten sizes too small for you. What about that striped cotton shirt I gave you last Christmas? You could tuck it into the skirt and put on some proper sandals.’

  ‘Not again! Stop nagging me!’

  ‘Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, my girl!’

  ‘I’m not twelve any longer, Mum!’

  ‘I’m only trying to get you to look a little...’

  ‘More conventional?’ She said that as though it were a dirty word.

  ‘If you like, yes. At least tonight.’

  ‘I like this outfit. I feel relaxed in it.’

  Jessica sighed out of pure exasperation. There was no time left to argue the toss.

  ‘Well, let’s just say that I’m not happy with the way you look, Lucy.’

  ‘You’re never happy with the way I look.’ Here we go again, Jessica thought. Another brief exchange of words developing into an all-out battle. Theoretically, this meal out should have been a relaxed one, but as they were driven to the restaurant she could feel the atmosphere charged with tension. One word on the subject of time-keeping, or dress, or school—or anything, for that matter-and Lucy, she knew, would retreat into moody silence.

  ‘How was school today?’ she asked eventually, at which Lucy gave a loud, elaborate sigh.

  ‘You’re not going to start going on about homework again, are you, Mum? Not the old boring lecture about the importance of education?’

  Jessica felt a prickle of tears behind her eyes. ‘I’m just interested, honey.’

  ‘School was as boring as it usually is. Mrs Dean said that it’s time we made some decisions about what subjects we want to study in sixth form.’

  Jessica held her breath. ‘And what have you got in mind?’

  ‘Maths, economics and geography.’

  Jessica tried to conceal her sigh of dizzying relief. She had been sharpening her weapons for this battle for quite some time now, making sure that she was well prepared for when Lucy announced that she had decided to quit school at sixteen and get a job in a department store.

  ‘If,’ her daughter said casually, ‘I bother to do A levels at all. Most of the girls are just going to try and find jobs. Kath’s thinking about a computer course. One of those six-month ones. There are always jobs for people who know how to use computers.’

  ‘We’ve been through all this before,’ Jessica said, closing her eyes, feeling exhausted.

  ‘You’ll get much further in the end if you go on to university, get a degree...’

  ‘While all my friends are out there, earning money...’

  ‘Life isn’t just about tomorrow, Lucy. You’ve got to plan a little further ahead than that.’

  ‘Why?’

  Jessica gave up. They had been through this argument so many times recently that it gave her a headache just thinking about it.

  The taxi pulled up outside the restaurant, and Lucy said, incredulously, ‘We’re eating here?’

  ‘I thought it might be fun to splash out for a change.’ she thought of Mark’s father and felt a flutter of nervous apprehension spread through her.

  ‘We can’t afford it,’ Lucy said, stepping out of the car and eyeing her mother and the restaurant dubiously. ‘Can we?’

  ‘Why not?’ Jessica grinned. ‘You only live once.’ And Lucy giggled—an unfamiliar, endearing sound.

  Virtually as soon as they walked in Jessica spotted them— seated in silence at a table in the far corner of the room, partially hidden by some kind of exotic plant. She wouldn’t have noticed them if she hadn’t immediately glanced around the dark, crowded restaurant, looking. Lucy still hadn’t seen them. She was wrapped up in excitement at the prospect of eating in a proper restaurant, where waiters hovered in the background and the lighting wasn’t utilitarian.

  ‘You should have said that we were coming here, Mum! I would have worn something different.’

  ‘I did mention...’

  ‘Yes, I know!’ Lucy hissed under her breath, as they were shown to their table, her eyes downcast, ‘but you always tell me that I don’t dress properly.’

  ‘You look stunning, whatever you wear,’ Jessica murmured truthfully, fighting to keep down the sick feeling in her stomach as they moved closer to where Mark and his father were sitting, still in complete silence. She didn’t dare glance at them. She didn’t want her eyes to betray any recognition, not even fleetingly. Was he looking at her? she wondered. She had put a great deal of thought into her outfit. A knee-length dress with a pattern of flowers on it, belted at the waist. It was the sort of dress that could be dressed up or dressed down, and because she had never made the mistake of wearing it to work it still had that special ‘going out’ feel to it that she liked.

  She found herself wondering what sort of image she presented, and was immediately irritated with herself for the passing thought. She frankly didn’t give a jot what Anthony Newman thought of her. To him, she was a sudden and inconvenient intrusion. To her, he was merely the means towards an end. It was irrelevant whether he found her attractive or not. They were about to sit down when Lucy gave a stifled gasp, and Jessica followed the direction of her eyes with what she hoped was polite interest.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, playing the part.

  ‘You’ve gone bright red.’

  ‘Fine. Yes. I’m fine,’ Lucy muttered, flustered. She sat down and chewed her lips nervously, darting quick glances at the table behind them. Mature though she looked sometimes, she still had that childish lack of control over the expressions on her face. Jessica could read them like a book. Her daughter had been surprised at the sight of Mark Newman, then deeply embarrassed. Now she was wondering whether she should acknowledge him or not. He still hadn’t seen them. His back was to them and his father, after a quick, indifferent glance at them, was now sipping his glass of wine and consulting the menu in front of him.

  Jessica pretended to ignore her daughter’s agitation. Eventually Lucy said, under her breath, ‘I just recognised someone, that’s all.’

  ‘Really?’ A waiter handed them menus and took an order for aperitifs. ‘One of your teachers?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘One of your school-friends?’ She looked at her daughter over the top of the menu. ‘I didn’t think that there was anyone here under eighteen apart from you.’

  ‘No one that you know, Mum,’ Lucy mumbled, diving into the menu and frowning savagely.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He hasn’t seen me.’

  ‘He...?’

  ‘Don’t look around. You’ll just make it obvious!’

  ‘Why don’t you say hello if you know him, whoever he is?’

  Jessica asked with studied indifference.

  ‘He’s wearing a jacket!’ She made that sound like a sin, and Jessica did her best not to smile.


  ‘How awful!

  ‘Very funny, Mum.’ She stared at the menu, still red-faced and frowning. ‘I suppose I’d better say hi.’

  Jessica nodded, holding her breath. ‘Good idea, darling.’ She placed the menu to one side, having read precisely nothing on it. ‘Silly to be antisocial.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  A FLURRY of introductions. Jessica did her best to appear politely interested, but she was keenly aware of Anthony Newman, the casual, masculine elegance of his body, as he half stood to shake her hand, the feel of his fingers briefly against hers.

  ‘My daughter’s mentioned you,’ she said, turning to face Mark and scrutinising him for signs of corrupt youth. There were none. He was the unformed younger version of his father. No hard edges yet.

  ‘Is that good or bad?’ he asked, grinning awkwardly, and she forced herself to smile back in return.

  ‘Horrendous, I should think,’ his father drawled.

  ‘The last thing this child needs is the presence of boys in her life.’

  ‘I’m sixteen,’ Lucy said stiffly.

  ‘And I meet boys every day, Mr Newman. My school’s co-ed.’

  ‘A mixed blessing, I should think.’ Anthony looked at Jessica and she felt herself flush, even though the glance was polite and cursory. ‘At least from a parent’s point of view.’

  ‘I’m afraid there was no choice...’

  ‘Anyway, why don’t you two join us? Unless you’re expecting someone else...?’

  ‘We couldn’t!’ Lucy said quickly.

  ‘We’d love to.’ Jessica looked vaguely around her. ‘Would they object...?’

  ‘Why on earth should they?’ Anthony stood up to pull a chair for her, and at the same time he beckoned to one of the waiters and informed him of the change in seating arrangements. Even in a matter as small as this there was that authority in his voice that she had noticed a few days ago. A natural air of command which assumed that no arguments would be forthcoming.

  Another flurry of sitting down. Poor Lucy looked so dismayed at this change of plan that Jessica almost felt sorry for her. Was there ever any embarrassment as acute as teenage embarrassment? Jessica looked kindly at her daughter, who was glaring at the empty wineglass in front of her while attempting to mutter a conversation with Mark, and felt suddenly matronly. An ageing, frumpish matron in a flowered dress, gauche in the presence of a man whose interest in her barely rose beyond strictly polite.

  She adored Lucy, but where on earth had all that hopeful youth gone?

  She felt as though she had been staring at her future one minute, and then the next minute looking over her shoulder at a future long since vanished. In between had been the tricky juggling job of child-rearing and work, hardly time to plan ahead, and no time at all to look behind.

  Was that what life was all about? Forgetting what dreams were all about?

  She looked under her lashes at Anthony, who was doing his charming best to coax a response out of Lucy, and felt a sudden flare of resentment.

  She had been perfectly happy, more or less, until now. For some reason he made her think about her life, and not just her life but the limitations within it. Nothing at all to do with money, more to do with the image she had of herself. He made her, she realised with annoyance, feel dowdy. Dowdy and mumsy. The sort of woman he might stand and chat to politely at a school gathering, before escaping with a sigh of relief back to his world of glamorous women who had the time and money to pamper themselves. The conversation had moved on from hobbies—a polite question from Anthony had met with an equally polite answer from Lucy—’None’. Now he was initiating the familiar school conversation, and getting, Jessica noticed with amusement, much the same lack of response as when she tried to initiate it herself.

  ‘School’s deadly,’ Lucy was saying now, tucking into her starter with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t eaten in several weeks. ‘Same old routine every day. I’m surprised some of the teachers don’t collapse from the sheer boredom of it all.’

  ‘I remember feeling precisely like that when I was your age,’

  Anthony said, struggling not to smile. He glanced at Jessica, and they shared a very brief bond of parental understanding. ‘Really?’ Lucy dragged her attention away from her food for an instant to subject him to a witheringly sceptical stare.

  ‘It gets better in sixth form,’ Mark told her.

  ‘If I ever get there,’ Lucy muttered under her breath. ‘I’m thoroughly fed up with school at the moment. Heaven only knows whether I can face another two years of it.’

  ‘Let’s not discuss this here,’ Jessica said sharply.

  ‘Why not? Kind of makes a change from discussing it at home all the time. Besides, Mark agrees with me, don’t you, Mark? We happen to think that discipline isn’t necessarily the best way of learning. Doesn’t allow for creativity.’

  ‘That certainly sounds a familiar line of argument.’ Anthony shot his son a dark, unreadable stare, and was met with a sullen, unresponsive look in return.

  Jessica quietly closed her fork and spoon, and wondered what on earth had possessed her to succumb to this madcap idea of joining forces with Anthony Newman. As far as good ideas went, it left a lot to be desired. After Anthony’s initial lukewarm reception, here they were, seated in one of the more expensive restaurants in London, waging war. They might as well have gone to a fast-food bar—at least the crockery wouldn’t have been breakable. Lucy, having scraped every morsel of food from her plate, was staring at Mark and Anthony with her face cupped in the palm of her hand, seemingly enjoying the terse exchange of words. Lord knows, Jessica thought, what sort of beneficial effect this evening was supposed to be having on her. ‘You don’t understand, Dad,’ Mark was saying in a laboured voice.

  ‘You spend all your life cooped up in an office, and you think that that’s the only valid contribution a person can make to society.’

  ‘You’re talking absolute rot,’ Anthony replied with an edge of anger.

  ‘As usual.’

  ‘Anything you don’t agree with, you consider absolute rot.’

  Oh, God, Jessica thought, wondering whether she could conceivably excuse herself and spend the next hour in the Ladies. In a minute, they’ll be coming to blows.

  ‘We’re not here to argue.’ Anthony sat back in his chair, sipped his wine, and smiled cordially at Jessica, who raised her eyebrows in disbelief at this sudden change of attitude. ‘Tell me what you do, Jessica.’ He linked his fingers together, regarded her with bland interest, and waited.

  ‘Mum works for a bunch of lawyers.’

  ‘I’m sure your mother is capable of answering for herself,’

  Anthony said.

  Mark met Lucy’s eyes with sympathy. ‘He’s always like that. Bossy.’ They began chatting in subdued voices while the waiter cleared away the debris, and Jessica smiled rather wildly back at Anthony.

  She nervously launched into an explanation of her job, feeling doubly stupid since he already knew what she did for a living. ‘She’s always wanted to be a lawyer,’ Lucy said, interrupting her.

  ‘You know as much as some of the junior ones. You tell me that all the time.’

  ‘Why don’t you go back to university and study?’ Mark asked with interest. ‘There are a lot of mature students around these days.’

  Jessica relaxed enough at that to grin. It sounded just the sort of remark that her own daughter would make. ‘I’m not sure they’d let me through the doors with my Zimmer frame and dentures,’ she said, amused.

  ‘But you could, couldn’t you?’ Anthony said seriously, focusing on her with curiosity and interest. ‘We run courses in my company for anyone interested in studying for professional accountancy qualifications. I’m sure your legal firm would do the same.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s no such thing in operation,’ Jessica replied, embarrassed at being the sudden centre of interest.

  ‘And I certainly can’t take a few years off to go to university. I
simply couldn’t afford to.’

  ‘Anyway, Mum can’t bring heaps of work home. She’s much too rushed off her feet coping with me.’

  The conversation settled onto a less fraught level. Theatre, cinema, restaurants, travel. Lucy and Mark ate heartily, in relative silence, preoccupied with doing justice to their food, and Anthony chatted pointedly to her, which didn’t feel quite right since they were here primarily for another reason. Was he forcing himself to appear polite? It wasn’t as though she was his dinner companion for the evening, and it was slightly mortifying to think that he might resent being cooped up here with company he had not particularly wanted in the first place. It was only when they were sipping their coffee that Jessica felt obliged to have another stab at coming back to what they had arranged this whole unnatural set-up for in the first place. ‘And are you,’ she asked Mark, virtually apropos nothing, ‘going on to university?’

  If Lucy realised that he was, then she might stop her vacillating and come to her senses. Peer pressure was a powerful thing, Jessica knew. Mark could probably persuade her to complete her studies far more convincingly than she, her own mother, ever could.

  Mark nodded and glanced at his father, who had pushed his cup to one side and was now sitting back in his chair and regarding the proceedings with detached interest.

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ Jessica said warmly, looking at Lucy and wondering whether she had got the appropriate message.

  ‘Mark’s going to university!’ she said, just in case.

  ‘I know, Mum. I heard. I have got ears, you know.’