Nomance, T Price [bookreader .TXT] 📗

kitchen. He couldhear voices from within and he readily recognised the smug andplausible tones of David Chudhury.

‘Poor bitch,’ hecouldn’t help saying to himself. After all, Carla was hissister.

When Louisa came down alittle later and they were seated at the kitchen table, heexplained that Carla was in a meeting and that she would not beable to say goodbye.

At the mention ofCarla, Louisa’s brows knotted in thoughtfulness – gradually.

‘Carla’s a very seriouswoman, I think,’ she declared.

‘Hmm,’ Gwynne nodded,chomping toast.

‘And yet, very kindtoo,’ she tinkled.

Gwynne gulped hard. Thetoast – it hurt.

‘How’s that?’ Herasped, eyes watering.

‘You said yourself, ifever we have children we’ll have to fight her off.’

‘She seems to have athing about kids, yeah,’ Gwynne said, examining his plate.

‘A lot of womendo.’

Gwynne smiled. ‘Justthe same, Carla’s very, very busy these days. Too busy forkids.’

‘She’s quite a businesswoman, isn’t she?’

‘She works hard, yes.But sometimes she doesn’t make the best of her investmentopportunities.’

‘Well, I still thinkRomance could do so well.’

Gwynne didn’t answerstraight away.

An incredibleidea had just hit him – and hit him hard!

‘There are easier waysto get money, you know,’ he said, staring at her now as if he hadnever set eyes on anything so stupendous, such was the potency ofhis inspiration.

‘Can’t we at leastthink about it?’ Louisa implored.

‘Um? BuyingRomance? Yes, but then, we should be open to all sorts ofother possibilities, shouldn’t we?’

She gave him an adoringsmile, nodded and leaned over and kissed him. ‘Got to go!’ Sheexclaimed, so jolly exuberant all of a sudden that it knocked hishead back.

‘I’ll walk you to thestation.’

‘I’d rather youdidn’t,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to explain. I want to be alone rightnow. Do you understand?’

Gwynne shook his head.‘Sure.’

‘I want to feel singleagain.’

‘Alright.’

‘Only for a littlewhile,’ she reassured him. ‘And I want everyone looking at me tothink I am, when really I’m not. It’s a secret. I love havingsecrets on lovely days like this. Don’t you?’

Gwynne nodded and beganto grin. ‘As it happens, I’ve sort of got one too.’

‘Don’t tell me what itis then.’

‘Oh no, not yet. I haveto phone someone first.’

‘Is it a surpriseyou’ve got for me?’

‘Yes.’ There was a boxof cornflakes on the table and Gwynne’s eye fell on this. ‘It’s away to fortify our finances with vitamins, if I can pull itoff.’

‘I’m sure you can.’

‘With your help.’ Hesmirked up at her. ‘Anyway, you go on now, lover. Shoo.’

They parted on the backstep.

Gwynne returned to thehall way and listened at the living room door to be sure that themeeting between Carla and the shirt-lifter was still inprogress.

It was.

He raced upstairs andwent into the smallest bedroom, which served as the administrativeoffice for Romance. There was a large writing bureau here,with a dead spider plant on top. Gwynne hunted through the untidyfiles and piles of papers till he found a letter from Gerald Lytton– gynecological consultant and fertility specialist.

He grabbed the phoneand keyed in Gerald’s number.

‘Yes?’ A man’s voiceanswered. Both curt and deliberate.

‘May I speak to GeraldLytton?’

‘Who is this?’

‘Gwynne Chalcott. I’mCarla Chalcott’s brother.’

‘And what are youcalling about?’

‘That’s something I’dlike to discuss with the doctor. It’s private.’

‘I’m Lytton, MrChalcott. Is Carla well?’

‘I suppose so. Thisdoesn’t have anything to do with Carla. I want to talk about myfiancee, Louisa.’

‘Louisa?’

‘She’s a very calmperson and . . . consistent. Not uptight or anything like that. Andwhen she sets her mind on something, you better believe she sticksat it to the bitter end.’

‘Good. You’re a luckyman, Mr Chalcott.’

‘And she loves the ideaof kids. She’s already going on about them and we only got engagedlast night down the pub.’

‘A very healthysign.’

‘Yes, healthy.’

‘And yet, you areperhaps worried she may have . . . difficulties.’

‘What’s that?’

‘In conceiving, MrChalcott.’

‘Who said that?’

‘I did.’

‘She ain’t got nodifficulties!’ Gwynne was fervent in his assurance. ‘She’s asstrong as a horse. She’s broad like Carla. But nothing like Carlain any other way. And that’s my point. She wouldn’t be a oneoff. She comes from a very good family and she knows if you sign acontract you keep to it. And what it is too, we’re setting up homeand all that. We’re going to need the extra money and if I tell herwe’re going to buy Romance then she’ll see that we’ll needto put out five or six kids at . . . lets say eight thousand each –’

‘Let me stop you there,Mr Chalcott.’

‘How about ten at seventhousand each?’

‘Look, I love whatyou’re telling me, but the fact is, I’m relocating to Switzerlandsoon.’

‘Louisa loves totravel.’

‘But you see, I’m alsochanging the line of work I do, so to speak.’

‘You’re not going to beinto pregnant women anymore?’

‘No. No more pregnantwomen . . . well, I shouldn’t think so. At this early stage atleast. You see, I shall be running a clinic dedicated to offeringthe terminally ill assisted suicide. I did mention this to Carla.I’m surprised that she hasn’t told you.’

‘Well you know, wedon’t do a lot of chat, she and I.’

‘No. So anyway, you seeLouisa wouldn’t have a future with me.’

Gwynne slumped. ‘She’llbe disappointed to hear that, doctor.’

‘But Mr Chalcott, thereare other fertility clinics she could try. If you like, I can sendyou a list of names and numbers.’

‘That’s an idea!’

‘Though I can’t tellyou anything about their fee structures and so forth.’

‘We can only findout.’

‘Just so! Got afax?’

Gwynne had a gift fornumbers and he rattled the shop’s fax number off without having tothink about it. Gerald had to get him to repeat it.

‘Well, that’s thatthen,’ Gerald said, ‘I’ll send the list now.’

‘Okay. Cheers.’

‘And congratulations onyour forthcoming marriage.’

‘Yeah, thanks.’

‘I hope, Mr Chalcott,that you both have many happy and prosperous years ahead of you . .. but how about if I append the details of my new clinic, just incase?’

‘Oh, I don’t knowwhether you should, man. Might be unlucky.’

‘I’ll do you adiscount.’

‘Right O!’

Sixteen Me Jane You Jane

Head down, zig-zaggingbetween the knee-high ferns, Carla pushed on in the sweltering heattill she could pitch herself down behind a cluster of palms. Shepaused just long enough to wipe away the sweat beading her foreheadand, sick with dread, she clawed aside some of the glossy frondsand peered out.

Juliet was standing onthe other side of the street.

Carla recoiled, lettingthe