The Year of the Virgins Read online

  ‘Well, you’ve still got a son, Dad, if you want one, but he’s got to live his own life, as you’ve lived yours. And don’t forget it, you have lived it, and right to the full. I haven’t sipped at mine yet, but I’m going to. But don’t worry, I’ll be along to see you later, perhaps tonight or tomorrow. So goodbye Dad, for the present.’

  In the hall Annette was standing with the baby in her arms and he said, ‘Are you ready, then?’

  ‘Yes, Joe. But…but there’s no need for you to drop me off; Peggie will be back with the car at any time. She’s just slipped into the town to see her mother. I can wait.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got nothing else to do at the moment.’

  ‘Is your place all fixed up?’ Her voice was stiff as she asked the question, and he said, ‘Yes. Yes, all fixed up and very nicely.’

  ‘You’ve been very secretive about it; why?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll soon know the reason. It’ll be all out shortly.’

  She cast him a sidelong glance, then went towards the front door. But there she turned and looked around the hall and towards the stairs and, her voice grim now, she said, ‘If ever there was an unlucky house, this is it. Pray God I’ll never know such again.’

  ‘Pray God you never will.’

  He opened the rear door for her and settled the baby on her knee; then took his seat behind the wheel. And they had gone some distance before she said, ‘Wherever this place of yours is, will you be near enough to drop in now and again?’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes, definitely.’

  ‘Joe.’

  ‘Yes, Annette?’

  ‘Can’t you tell me? Why have you kept this place secret?’

  ‘Well, Annette’—he paused, for they were approaching a corner—‘I thought it the best policy. And, you see, there is this young woman concerned, and I felt I’ve dallied with her long enough; I wanted to bring things to a head sort of abruptly.’

  ‘I don’t understand you, Joe, not lately I don’t.’

  ‘Well, Annette, for a long time I didn’t understand myself, but now I do and I know what I’m about.’

  ‘Well, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s all that matters, Annette.’

  There was nothing more said between them as the car sped the rest of the journey through pleasant countryside. And then there they were bowling up the short drive and stopping in front of the long, grey-stoned two-storey house.

  He opened the front door into the small hallway and she went in before him, then stopped abruptly and looked down at the four suitcases standing side by side near the telephone table. Swinging round, she looked up at him, and he said, ‘Yes, yes, they’re mine. There are a number of boxes, too, books you know, but I’ve put them in the loft.’

  She took three steps back from him, and he said, ‘Look out! You’ll fall over the chair. Come and sit down.’

  He pushed open the door of the sitting room, then took the baby from her and, entering the room he laid it on a deep-cushioned armchair.

  She hadn’t followed but was still standing at the door, and so he walked back to her, took her hand and brought her to the couch. And here, pressing her down into it, he sat beside her and said, ‘This is my new flat; I’m staying here. I’ve already picked my rooms at the end of the corridor upstairs. They’ll do for a time. What do you think about it?’ His hand spread out, taking in the room with the gesture. ‘Quite a nice place?’

  ‘Stop it, Joe! Stop it!’

  ‘No, I’m not going to stop it.’ His own voice had changed now, all the banter gone. ‘I’m doing what I should have done many years ago. I shouldn’t have been pressed aside. You know it, and I know it. And Don knew it. Oh, yes, Don knew it. You were mine long before you were his. We both knew that. I don’t know where you come in in that part, but I knew that if I had spoken before Dad started his manoeuvres, I would have had a wife by now, and a family. You grew to love Don. I’ll not deny that. And he loved you. Oh, yes, he loved you. You loved each other. But it was an interlude. As I see it now, that’s all it was, an interlude. In looking back, you belonged to me right from the beginning. Can you imagine what I felt like when I was forced to take on the big brother role? Can you? Oh, don’t cry, my dear. Don’t cry. I want to talk to you. I’ve got a lot more to say and it’s this: I’ve waited so long now I can go on waiting until you’re ready, but I’ve got to be near you, and I’ve got to know that you are mine, and that one day we will marry. And I can’t help but add I hope it will be soon. But you know something? Dad warned me just before I left the house that there’d be talk. He was upset when I told him what I was going to do. He of all people to tell me that there would be talk. Can you imagine it? Now, the point is this, Annette. The talk could have substance, or it couldn’t. I leave that to you and in your own time. Just know this. I love you…I’ve always loved you, and I can’t see myself, after all this long time, ever stopping. And because I love you so much I feel that it would be impossible for you not to love me in some way, some time.’

  ‘Joe. Joe.’ Her eyes were tightly closed. Her head fell against him and rested on his shoulder as she muttered, ‘I do love you. I love you now. I’ve been full of guilt with the feeling. I loved Don. Yes, I did. But I loved you too. All through I’ve known I loved you, and not just as a brother. Oh, Joe. Joe.’

  His chin lay on top of her head, his eyes were screwed up tight, his teeth biting into his lower lip. Then pressing her face upwards from his shoulder, he brought his lips gently down on hers. And when she clung to him Flo’s words sprang into his mind: ‘Everything comes to him who waits.’ Then his eyes twinkling, he said quietly, ‘You know there’ll be a field day. Are you prepared for that?’

  ‘Yes, Joe.’ Her face still wet, the tears still running, she repeated again, ‘Yes, Joe. And the stalls and the coconut shies.’

  ‘With Father Cody pelting us?’

  Once more they were enfolded in each other’s arms and Joe added, ‘And by God, he will that! Even if we get no further than this’—he kissed her on the tip of her nose—‘he’ll flay us as only he can flay with his tongue…’

  She looked at him steadily now as she said, ‘Well, we’ll have to see that we are flayed for something, won’t we, Joe?’

  ‘Oh, my dear. My dear.’

  Gently now they enfolded each other and lay back against the couch. But when a small cry came from the chair, their mouths opened wide and they laughed aloud. Then, springing up, Joe picked up the baby and, rocking it widely from side to side, he cried, ‘Listen to me, Flo Coulson, your mother loves me. Do you hear that? Your mother loves me. Everything comes to him who waits. Your mother loves me.’

  The End