The Unmarried Husband

By seven-thirty, Jessica was bathed and dressed and waiting in the sitting room for her daughter, who still had not shown up from school. She had taken a magazine to read, so that she could at least pretend to herself that her frame of mind was still relaxed, but the magazine lay unopened on her lap, and her fingers were clasped together.

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!’