Sheer Abandon (88 page)

Nick walked out of the bathroom and sat down, his legs having become suddenly weak, totally devoid of substance; and then rang Clio again. She didn’t answer.

“Look, Beatrice, I’m not having it. Nick won’t want it. I know he won’t. You know what he’s like; the last thing in the world he’d want is a child.”

“That’s not quite the same thing as not knowing he’s got one. In the making, at least.”

“Beatrice, I can’t tell him. Believe me, I can’t.”

“Well, I do beg to differ. Look—I’d love to stay with you, but I can’t, I have to be in court in under an hour. We can discuss it all tonight. Are you going to stay down here, or do you want to go up to bed? Christine’ll look after you. She’s taking the children to school now, but I’ll leave her a note. Josh is away, somewhere up in the Midlands.”

“Fine. Thank you so much, Beatrice.”

“That’s OK. Now promise me, rest.”

“I promise.”

Good thing Beatrice was going out, thought Jocasta. She felt much better. She had an hour still; she’d have a shower, borrow one of Beatrice’s rather severe tracksuits, and set off. God, and change the cab arrangement. Better do that first.

Josh was still asleep when Beatrice rang. He’d had a bit of a night with the sales force, his head was agony.

“Josh, this is Beatrice. Look, I’ve got something to tell you. You are coming back tonight, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Right, well, Jocasta will be there.”

“Jocasta! Why?”

“She’s pregnant.”

“Pregnant!”

“Yes. And—wait for it—it’s not Gideon’s. It’s Nick’s. And she’s clearly planning a termination.”

“Nick’s! How terrible. Can’t we stop her?”

“I’m not sure. But the point is, he doesn’t know. And he really should. She swears he wouldn’t want it, but he ought to have a chance to say so himself. He can’t stop her legally, of course, but—anyway, do you have his number?”

“I think so. You really think he ought to be told?”

“I really think so.”

“Lord. Poor Jocasta.”

Clio was frantically worried; Jocasta appeared to have gone missing. She had tried her several more times and each time there had been more bleeps on the answering machine and no reply on her mobile.

She actually picked up the phone to call Nick once or twice and then put it down again hastily. He had called her, but she hadn’t picked up the phone. God, she was a coward. Or was she just being a good friend, keeping Jocasta’s counsel?

She wished she could talk to Fergus about it all. He would know what to do. That was one of the wonderful things about Fergus, he was so sensible. And sympathetic. He was such a Jekyll and Hyde, he had been so sweet about the Morrises, for instance. Stop thinking about Fergus, Clio, concentrate on Jocasta and what’s going on.

Her phone rang: she jumped, but it wasn’t Nick, it was Josh. Did she have Nick’s mobile number? Or even his flat? It was urgent…

“Well…”

“Oh, Clio, come on.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Yes, she’s at our house.”

“Thank God. I’ve been so worried about her. Yes, of course, I’ll give you his number. But don’t say I gave it you. And you can tell him what you like. Only, I swore I wouldn’t—”

“Thanks. You don’t happen to know when—if—she might be having a termination, do you?”

“Well, yes. She is. This morning, I’m afraid. And she’s going to be sterilised—”

“Jesus! Where?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. I think she thought I might tell Nick; we’d had a row—”

“Look, call her at our house, Clio, would you? Try to find out where she’s going, try to delay her. And I’ll ring Nick.”

Jocasta was feeling much better. She could go to the clinic. She’d be fine. She had three-quarters of an hour before the cab came. She might just have a bath rather than a shower, it would be more relaxing.

Sitting in the bath with the door shut and Capital Radio on loudly, to distract her, she didn’t hear the phone ringing.

“Nick? This is Josh.”

“Josh! Thank God. Maybe you can help. I’m terribly worried about Jocasta, I don’t know where she is and—”

“She’s at our house.”

“At yours?”

“Yes. Now the thing is—that is—Oh God, this might be a bit of a shock, Nick, but she’s—well, she’s pregnant. Sorry to spring it on you, but…”

“I did—think she might be,” said Nick. He was speaking rather slowly. “I just found some tests. I’m at her place now. But why are you ringing me?”

“Because it’s yours.” Nick felt as if he was falling through a large silent space, with Josh’s voice echoing in the heart of it.

“My baby? Are you absolutely sure?”

“Well, Jocasta is. She told Beatrice.”

“Good God,” said Nick. “Dear, sweet Jesus.”

“Yes. And she’s about to have a termination.” There was a silence. “Nick? You still there?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m still here.”

“Nick, I’m so sorry. Bloody awful thing to hear out of the blue. But Jocasta’s at our house, if you want to stop her.”

“Of course I want to stop her, for God’s sake!”

“Well, call her. Got the number? I think you really have to put your skates on, Nick, and—” But Nick had already cut him off.

“Mr. Hartley, hello. This is Ed Forrest. I just heard from Mum, she said Mrs. Hartley might have to go into hospital. I’m so sorry. How is she now?”

“Nice of you to call, Ed. Yes, she isn’t very well. Dreadfully low, I’m afraid. Just as you must be. How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” said Ed quickly. He didn’t like talking about how much he hurt; that was his property, part of Martha and of how much he had loved her, not to be shared.

“Your visit was the one thing which seemed to cheer my wife up. I was so grateful to you, Ed. Oh, and could you thank Kate? Her letter seemed to help, as well. It was kind of her to write. I’ve been meaning to write to her, but I’ve been so busy. I think Grace feels Martha’s friends bring her closer, somehow.”

“Yes, well, that’s nice. And I will tell Kate, yeah. I’m not sure if I’ll be up again this weekend, Mr. Hartley, but if I am, I’ll certainly come and see her again. Cheers. Take care.”

“It’s Grace who needs to take care. But thank you, Ed, so much.”

Poor old chap. Poor, poor old chap. He’d tell Kate. She was a nice kid. Pretty too. Bit spiky. Like her mother.

“Miss Forbes, isn’t it? Yes. And you’re booked in for—yes, a termination this morning. And a sterilisation.” The nurse smiled at her encouragingly.

“Yes,” said Jocasta, “that’s right.”

“If you’d like to come with me, I’ll take you up to your room. We can do your admission; check everything’s in order, ask you to sign the consent form, all that sort of thing. You’ve had nothing, since six o’clock, to eat or drink?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Good. Now I think we’ll start with taking your blood pressure.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Marshall, but Jocasta’s gone.” The nanny was clearly anxious. “Yes. She left about—oh, I don’t know, about half an hour ago. I’m sorry, I didn’t—what? In a cab. Yes. No, it was a minicab. I have no idea, I’m afraid—oh hang on, he’s left a card. I can’t stand the way they always do that, can you? Oh, sorry, yes, Clapham Cars, does that ring a bell? Yes? Well, the number’s—”

Kate was on her way to see Fergus; she had definitely decided to sign the contract, if Smith hadn’t found anyone else. It was only three years, it was such a lot of money, it would set her up for life, as a photographer maybe, or whatever else she decided to do.

It was all very well for Josh to tell her not to, if it bored her: he had plenty of money already. She could see how it would help her parents, and Juliet for that matter. And now she was feeling so much better about everything, she thought she could handle the publicity.

She knew Fergus would be pleased. And rather better off as a result. So it would benefit everyone, really. After all, it was only three years….

Peter was in the middle of dealing with some correspondence when Grace called him. “Could I have some painkillers, Peter, please? My head is dreadful.”

“Of course. I’ll bring them up.” He walked in; she looked terrible. “Poor old love. Here they are. I’ll get a couple out for you—” The phone started to ring as she took the bottle from him. She tipped out a couple of the tablets, and swallowed them and had just started to replace the cap when something stopped her. She sat looking at the bottle. There were plenty more. She could just take a handful. That should do it: quite quickly. The other way was taking too long and making her feel too bad. Lucky whoever it was had called then. Really lucky…

“Would that have been a Miss Forbes?”

“I—would imagine so. Yes.”

“Let me see. She changed the booking, from Haines Road, to Old Town pickup—yes, here we are. She’s booked to Gower Street. That sound right?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“OK. The GG & O Clinic, Gower Street, it was. Just down from UCH. Pickup this afternoon, time to be confirmed.”

“Thank you,” said Nick, “thank you so much.” If she was having this awful thing done this morning it could be anytime. It could be now. He’d better get his skates on, as Josh had said.