No Enemy but Time (31 page)

She turned and looked at him. She had one weapon to fight with, and she was using it more and more. She went over and turned the key in the door.

‘If you don't want a drink,' she said, moving towards him and lowering herself on to his knee. ‘How about this …' and she guided his hand to her breast.

‘Darling,' Neil Fraser said. ‘What a clever girl you are.'

He held Claire's hand. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He thought she looked more beautiful than ever. But very tired and pale, with a luminous softness that touched him deeply. As deeply as the sight of his baby son.

‘He's sweet, isn't he?' she said. ‘It didn't take too long, either.'

He said, ‘I'm sorry I didn't stay to the end. I couldn't take the last part. Seeing you in pain.' He brought her hand up to his lips.

‘Don't be silly, darling,' she said gently. ‘It wasn't as bad as all that.'

She had refused an anaesthetic, insisting upon experiencing her baby's birth. That and Neil's flight from the delivery room hadn't endeared them to the gynaecologist.

‘Are you glad it's a boy?' she asked him. ‘I knew you wanted one, though you never said so.'

‘I'm just glad it's a healthy baby,' Neil admitted. ‘I kept thinking while I was waiting downstairs, I don't care about anything so long as Claire's all right. I'm so proud of you, and I love you so much.'

She saw there were tears in his eyes. She was surprised. She had imagined him being proud and pleased, behaving like a typical first-time father with a boy as a bonus. But not like this. He was more emotional than she had ever seen him. He did love her. More than when they married nearly two years ago. Even when she was sick and clumsy and short-tempered carrying the baby, he had surprised her by his patience and care. I'm very lucky, she thought. I should be glowing with happiness. But I'm not. I wasn't sorry when they took the baby away. It was such an awful anticlimax … I'm just very tired and it was all a bit of a shock. I'll glow tomorrow, I expect.

He said eagerly, ‘You are happy about him, aren't you, darling? It wasn't too bloody for you, was it?'

‘No,' she said. ‘Of course it wasn't. Have you rung everyone?'

He nodded. ‘I phoned as soon as I heard. Father's delighted, and I got through to Philip and Claudia. They're thrilled. They're flying over tomorrow.'

Claire said after a moment, ‘Did you let Frank know?'

‘There wasn't time. I came straight in to see you as soon as I'd spoken to Claudia. I'll do it later.'

‘Don't worry.' She squeezed his hand. ‘I'll speak to him. Why don't you go home, darling? You've been hanging round here all night.'

‘I'm all right,' he insisted. ‘But you're tired, aren't you?'

‘I am a bit,' Claire admitted. He bent over and kissed her.

‘Thank you,' he murmured. ‘He'll be a great little chap. Now you sleep and I'll be round at lunch-time.'

She turned to watch him to the door; he paused before closing it and waved almost shyly at her. Then she was alone. The whole wrenching experience had left her numb and shocked. But she wouldn't say so to Neil. He'd been so anxious about her, almost guilty because she was suffering pain. And he was so pleased. That was very touching. The baby was sweet. Poor little thing, she thought, it can't have been much fun for him. Her parents would be thrilled with their first grandchild. They'd be ringing everyone. All the relatives in the four corners of Ireland, toasting the new baby. Corks popping and congratulations. No one had let her brother know. She stretched out her hand and touched the bell. The nurse came in very quickly.

‘Hello, Mrs Fraser. I'm Nurse Adams. I've just come on duty. How are you feeling?' She thought Mrs Fraser looked grey-faced and exhausted. She must have had a rough time. Still, these people with their natural childbirth …‘Bit tired, I expect,' she said, not waiting for an answer.

Claire said, ‘I'd like the telephone plugged in, please.'

Ten minutes later she was speaking to Frank in Ireland.

‘You're an uncle,' she said. ‘Little boy. Yes, he's fine … I'm okay. Well, it wasn't much fun. Don't ever have a baby if you can help it. No, of course I'm all right … I'm not crying … Frank, when are you coming over? I wish you were here now.' The tears were rolling down her face, soaking the pillow. ‘Neil's absolutely thrilled. Everyone's thrilled except me. I feel as flat as a bloody pancake. I don't know what's the matter with me – no, Mum and Dad will be over tomorrow. I don't care. I want you to come, please. You're the godfather, remember. How's Ireland? Give it my love.'

She listened to him talking for a few moments. All her life he had been near to comfort her. She didn't understand why, but she had never needed him as much as she did now, and he was miles away across the Irish Sea. And the telephone line crackled, making it difficult to hear.

The nurse opened the door. ‘Mrs Fraser, I think you should go to sleep now.'

Claire didn't have the energy to argue. It had taken enough effort to get the telephone in the first place.

‘I'll ring off now,' she said. ‘Let me know when you're coming. Yes, I will. Goodbye, Frank love.'

Obediently she let the nurse arrange the pillows and settled down to sleep. She closed her eyes. Her husband was delighted. Her parents were thrilled. She had a new baby son. The tears went on trickling. She felt lonely and homesick, and nothing seemed to matter at all.

Marie had been listening to the telephone call. She came forward with lying words of congratulations, but Frank didn't seem to hear them.

‘There's something wrong,' he said.

Hope flared in her. ‘Oh, no! Your sister's all right, isn't she? Is it the baby?' She didn't hope for that.

He said impatiently, ‘The baby's fine. But she doesn't sound right. I swear she was crying when she rang off.' He was frowning.

Marie said, ‘Oh, I shouldn't worry about that. Lots of women cry after they've had a baby. It's quite normal.'

She shrugged a little as if it needn't be considered.

Frank looked at her. ‘Not Claire,' he said. ‘I know my sister. I'd better go to London today.'

‘If she's depressed,' Marie said after a moment, ‘surely her husband's the one to deal with it.'

He didn't answer. She wasn't sure if he was silent because he was angry or because she had touched a sore spot. ‘I must go to London today.' In the name of Christ, Marie cried out inwardly, hasn't she got a husband and a mother and a father if she needs looking after? Why does it have to be
you
who goes running?

He said suddenly, ‘You're right. Of course, you're right. But she won't tell him. She'll put a brave face on it. We had a cousin who got post-natal depression. She was ill for three years. I'll speak to him.'

At the end of ten days Frank flew to London. Claudia and Philip had only just gone back and Claire was about to go home. She was feeling a lot better. The sense of sinking misery had stopped, thanks to the prompt treatment which resulted from Frank's warning to Neil. She didn't know why Neil spent so much time with her, or why the baby was put beside her for long periods with the nurse sitting, chatting, in the room. She saw her parents and didn't notice they were worried, or realize that she passed days crying for no reason. The room was so full of flowers they had to put the vases on the floor and into the corridor at night. Neil had given her a ruby brooch which must have cost a fortune.

She felt better but she kept asking when her brother was coming, and she didn't see the look of anguish on her husband's face every time the question was accompanied by more tears. And then he did come. The door of her room opened and instead of Neil, or the doctor or her nurse, there was Frank with a big bunch of flowers wrapped in cellophane.

The pills and the therapy were working, but when she saw him the last cloud lifted and she laughed with real joy. She rang for the baby and felt quite moved for the first time when she held him. Frank said what a fine little fellow he was. She talked and talked about the birth, as if now she could speak the truth and not pretend she hadn't hated it and been afraid. He listened and stayed beside her, his finger caught in the sleeping baby's tiny fist.

At last Claire sank back and said, ‘I've nearly burst keeping all that in!' And he knew she was not in danger any more.

Outside the room he met Neil. They shook hands. Neil Fraser looked years older, he thought, than the last time they had had dinner in a London hotel. And now there was something in his eyes which he didn't even try to hide.

‘How is she?' he asked.

Frank said, ‘She'll be fine now. But I wouldn't rush into another baby.'

Neil said slowly, ‘So I've been told. I'm sure it's done her a lot of good to see you. She's coming home tomorrow. Why don't you come and stay for a few days? I know she'd like that.'

Frank said, ‘That's very kind of you, Neil. If you think it'll help, I'd be delighted. But I don't want to be in your way.'

‘Not at all. Do come. Make it in time for dinner.' He turned, reaching for the door handle. ‘See you then,' he said and went inside.

He saw the brightness in her face and his heart was light for the first time since the baby was born. She was better and she held out her arms to him with her old warmth. But relief was mixed with a new pain. He had been shown the brave face. She had turned to her brother for help. For all they were married and had a child, Claire still didn't really belong to him.

The child was christened in the old Norman church in Gloucestershire. Claire looked well and happy, holding the baby in her arms for the photographers outside. There were four godparents: her brother Frank, a Hamilton cousin, a distant relative of Neil's and the star of the quartet, an influential member of the Tory 1922 Committee. Claudia and Philip stayed for the weekend, with Neil's father. A brisk young nanny looked after the little boy. He'd been christened Peter Francis Hugh.

His uncle Frank was in America, but he sent a cable and gave a handsome Irish silver mug. He was right not to come; Claire accepted that. Neil was secretly relieved. There would be no embarrassment, no atmosphere to spoil the day. Frank and his father were not on speaking terms. Personally he thought it incredible for Philip to cut his only son out of his will because they disagreed about politics. Ireland was such a mixture of muddle and prejudice that none of it made sense.

Claire was in blooming health after a holiday in Portugal. She was more beautiful, he thought proudly, watching her against the background of a sunny English garden. Tanned and thin again, with a mature self-confidence. His colleagues in the House said she was the perfect wife for a rising politician. Now that his personal life was settled into a routine – wife, baby, country house and London flat near the division bell – Neil began to concentrate intensely upon his career. Claire was full of enthusiasm; their sex life was as satisfying as ever. There was nothing to stand in the way of his career. It was the best way of forgetting that in spite of all the benefits, a gap had opened up between them since the baby's birth. Seeing her animated and laughing with their friends, Neil sometimes wondered if he were not imagining a subtle change in their relationship.

The girl had grown into a woman. She had lost the curious innocence which had attracted him when they first met. It was said that Irish society kept its young women unsophisticated by contrast with their English sisters. Neil used to laugh at Claire for being childish. He longed for that vanished simplicity now. A stranger lurked behind the ready smile, and held aloof from their heated lovemaking. He was aware of it even on this special day, when the sun shone and his child cheeped like a contented nestling in Claire's arms. But he was a man who despised self-pity and suspected flights of imagination. His emotions had been in low gear until he married; now he was determined to get them under control again. Work was the cure for weakness and self-doubt.

From the day of the christening, Neil set himself a new priority. He was going to rise in the newly elected Tory Party. His son was eighteen months old when Neil Fraser was made a Junior Minister in the Prime Minister's first Cabinet reshuffle.

Three months later there was a report in
The Times
, with a photograph, of his brother-in-law addressing an audience in New York on behalf of Noraid, with some of the most notorious IRA supporters in the city perched in a row on the platform behind him.

He knew Claire had seen it. He waited for her to comment, but she never said a word. She lunched with him at the House and sat through a debate in the afternoon as he was making a speech. She was there, but not with him, as if she could avoid the issue of what her brother's public statement must mean to Neil's career.

After the debate his Minister had spoken to him privately. He would be expected to make a firm disavowal of his brother-in-law in the House that evening. Questions were already being raised in the press. Neil responded cautiously. He gave his opinion of his brother-in-law as a crackpot eccentric who shouldn't be taken seriously. The Minister said he was sure that was the case, but a stronger condemnation would have to be made. The Opposition would raise issues of security, and the powerful pro-Unionist faction in his own party, apart from the Members from Ulster themselves, would hound him unless he could convince them that he and his wife had severed all ties with an avowed enemy of Britain. The words, ‘and your wife', were spoken with emphasis. Neil said, Yes, of course, Claire shared his view and would certainly support whatever he said.

On his way home to dinner, before returning to the Commons, he wondered how he was going to open the subject. He didn't need to, because the telephone was ringing as he opened the flat door. It was Philip telephoning from Ireland.