A Proper Marriage. Doris Lessing
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Seeing it, Stella said impatiently, ‘She’s much too young. She doesn’t realize.’
‘Oh, I don’t know – she’s been putting the fear of God into me. She’ll be ill. I wish you’d speak to her, Stell.’
‘But I have been speaking to her. She won’t listen.’
‘After all, there’s no danger in a proper operation in Johannesburg, but messing about with gin and all that nonsense …’
Stella shrugged this away, and said, ‘She’s as stubborn as a mule. She’s just a baby herself. She’s pleased now, of course, but that’s natural.’
Douglas looked up sharply, and went red. His lips trembled. He stood up, then sat down again. Now he was white.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asked, smiling but irritated.
‘I’ll talk to her again,’ he muttered. He understood. Now all he wanted was for her to go. For the first time he had imagined the baby being born. He was imagining himself a father. Pride was invading him. It had already swallowed up his small pang of hurt that Martha had made up her mind without him, his aggrieved annoyance at her inconsistency. He felt nothing but swelling exaltation.
Stella had risen. ‘You’re both crazy,’ she said.
‘There, Stella …’ he said, hesitated; then kissed her.
‘Well!’ she exclaimed, laughing.
‘Look, Stell, I’m awfully busy.’
She nodded and said, ‘Come and have a drink, both of you, this evening. We’ll celebrate. Though I think you’re both mad.’ With another unconsciously envious look at his flushed, proud face, she went out.
The moment she had gone he rang Martha. Her voice came gay over the air as she announced her conviction that having a baby was the most sensible thing they could both do.
‘Why, Matty!’ he shouted. Then he let out a yell of pure elation. He heard her laugh.
‘Come home to lunch?’ she asked. Then she added scrupulously, ‘Not if you’re busy.’
‘Well, actually, I’ve got an awful lot of work.’
‘Oh, very well, we’ll celebrate this evening.’
‘Actually, Stella asked us over.’
‘Oh, but Stella …’ She stopped.
‘We can decide that later.’ They each held the receiver for a while, waiting for the other to say something. Then he said, very stern and efficient, ‘Matty, you’re quite sure?’
She giggled at his tone, and said derisively, ‘I’ve been perfectly sure for a whole hour.’
‘See you later, then.’ He put down the receiver – and nearly lifted it to ring her again. Something more, surely, must be said or done. He was seething with the need to release his elation, his pride. It was impossible to sit quietly working in the office. He walked across to the door of his chief’s office, and stood outside it. No – he would tell him later. He left a message that he would be back in half an hour, and went into the street. He was walking towards the flat, he realized. His steps slowed, then he stopped. On a street corner he stood staring at nothing, breathing heavily, smiling. There was a florist’s shop opposite. He was drawn to the window. He was looking at some deep-red carnations. He would send Matty some flowers – yes, that was it. But as he was about to go into the shop, he saw again her face as he had last seen it that morning – set, angry, stiff-lipped. He did not enter the shop. A big clock at the end of the street said it was after twelve. He hesitated, turned, and set off towards the flat after all. He would surprise her for lunch. Then again he stopped, standing irresolute on the pavement. Nearly, he went back to the office. Almost, he directed himself to Martha. He gave another long look at the mass of deep crimson carnations behind the glass. Then he thought, I could do with a drink. He walked off to the Club, where he usually had a drink before lunch.
The first person he saw was Perry at the bar, eating potato chips with a glass of beer. They nodded, and Perry pushed the plate of chips towards him.
Douglas shook his head. ‘My ulcer’s been playing me up again.’
‘The more I ill-treat mine, the more it likes it.’ Perry directed very bright hard blue eyes at him, and asked, ‘What are you looking so pleased about?’
‘We’re having a kid,’ said Douglas proudly. He knew tears stood in his eyes: it was the climax of his exultation.
‘You’re joking,’ said Perry, polite but satiric.
Douglas laughed, then whooped, so that people turned around to stare and smile sympathetically. ‘It’s a fact.’ He called to the barman, ‘Drinks on me. Drinks all round.’ In a moment the two were surrounded and Douglas was being thumped over the shoulders and back. ‘Stop it, silly sods,’ he said, grinning, ‘stop it.’
Then Perry, with a wooden face, deliberately reached into his pocket and fetched out papers. ‘You’ll want to fix this up right away,’ he said, pushing the papers towards Douglas.
‘Don’t work so damned hard,’ said Douglas, laughing, pushing the papers back. Insurance policies – Perry worked as manager of a big insurance company.
‘The finest policy south of the Sahara,’ said Perry. He pulled out a fountain pen and handed it to Douglas. ‘Sign on the dotted line.’
Douglas pushed them back at him again.
But as they drank and talked, Douglas glanced over the papers, and as the two men left the bar he said, ‘I wouldn’t mind having another look at that policy sometime.’
‘I’ll send it over to you,’ said Perry.
‘You think it’s the ticket, hey?’
‘It’s the one I’d have if I was starting a kid.’
Perry nodded and was walking away. Douglas thought, It’ll be a surprise for Matty. He wanted to take something back to her. He called after Perry, and the two went together to the insurance offices. Douglas signed the documents then and there. He rang up his office to say that he would not be back this afternoon, and went home to Martha. He ran the last few yards of the way, and pounded up the stairs holding the packet of papers in his hand, grinning like a boy with pleasure at the thought of her face when she saw the policy.
You must remember that having a baby is a perfectly natural process.
FROM A HANDBOOK ON HOW TO HAVE A BABY
Mrs Quest joyfully ran into the house and announced they were to have a grandchild.
Mr Quest lowered his newspaper and exclaimed, ‘What! Oh Lord!’
‘Oh, my dear,’ she said impatiently, ‘it’s the best thing that could happen, it’s so nice for her. It’ll settle her down, I’m so happy.’
He listened for some time to his wife’s cheerful planning of the child’s future; it was not until the young man was due for university that he remarked uncomfortably, ‘It’s all very well …’
But she swept on, illuminated by decision. The boy – he was to be named Jeffrey, after Mrs Quest’s father – was to be saved by a proper education from Martha’s unconformities; he would be, in fact, the child Mrs Quest had always longed for, the person her own two children had obstinately refused to become. Her eyes were wistful, her face soft. Mr Quest regarded it with increasing discomfort,