The Paying Guests(104)

She gazed at him and couldn’t speak.

Lilian answered instead. ‘You mustn’t worry. It’s nothing.’

He turned back to her. ‘Why do you keep saying that? What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing’s the matter. I —’

But Frances could see that she hadn’t the strength for it. Her voice had begun to waver, and the smile was tugging ever more unnaturally at her face. As Leonard stared at her, bewildered, she sank back against the cushions with a hand across her eyes. And when she let the hand drop she said, in a defeated way, ‘I didn’t want to tell you, Len. I – I think it’s a miss. That’s why it’s been so bad.’

He looked quickly over his shoulder at Frances, his sandy eyelashes fluttering. Turning to Lilian again, he dropped his voice. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me?’

‘I don’t know. It was only a few weeks along, and —’

‘Did you get a doctor? Today, I mean. Have you seen a doctor?’

‘I haven’t needed a doctor. Frances has looked after me. – What are you doing?’

He was getting to his feet. ‘What’s the time?’ It was quarter to nine. ‘It isn’t too late for me to run for a doctor now, is it? Where’s the nearest man?’

Panicked, Lilian put out her hand to pull him back. ‘Please, Len. I don’t want a doctor. There’s no point. It’s all finished.’

‘Just someone to look you over.’

‘There’s nothing for a doctor to do. It’ll be a waste of money. And Mrs Wray will come home when he’s here, and it’ll all be a big fuss, and I’ll be embarrassed. Please, Len.’

‘But you look like death! Frances, you must agree with me, don’t you? Just tell me where the nearest man is.’

Again Frances found herself unable to answer. She felt too ashamed, too exposed. The success of the thing, the cosy room, the romance: it had vanished. Lilian had scrambled to her knees now, the blanket slithering from her, the hot water bottle falling plumply to the floor. Their gazes met over Leonard’s shoulder and she gave Frances a small, urgent, warning shake of her head.

And Leonard turned back to her just as she did it. Caught out, she blinked, then lowered her eyes. He stood and watched her, his expression shifting. ‘Just what the hell is going on here?’ He waited. ‘Frances? What’s going on?’ Then his face cleared, as he worked it out. He turned to his wife again. ‘You’ve never —?’

Lilian spoke in a guilty rush. ‘It just happened by itself. I just woke up and it had come on. I swear it, Len.’

He gazed at her, saying nothing. His silence made her bluster all the more. She appealed to Frances. ‘Tell him, Frances. You saw me this morning, didn’t you? Didn’t I tell you that it had come on? Didn’t I – Oh!’ She sat back, clamping her hands across her belly. ‘Oh, I feel so ill!’

The sight of her made Frances able to move forward at last. Leonard, however, remained where he was. ‘If you’re as ill as all that,’ he said coldly, ‘why won’t you let me fetch you a doctor? Are you afraid of what he’ll find?’

‘Please don’t, Len.’

‘I don’t believe this. – No, Frances, let her alone.’ Frances had been drawing up the blanket around Lilian’s shoulders, but he’d caught hold of her arm and was pulling her away. ‘You let my dear wife alone until you hear what she’s done.’

‘Stop it, Len,’ said Lilian weakly.

‘Why? Don’t you want Frances to know? Are you ashamed of yourself? No? Tell Frances, then. Go on. Or shall I tell her for you? I know, let’s call for Mrs Wray and tell her too, shall we?’

He still had hold of Frances’s arm. She tried to tug herself free. ‘Please, Leonard,’ she said at last.

‘No, no. I’m waiting for Lily to tell you.’

‘Leonard, for God’s sake!’ Her tone made him turn and look into her face. She blinked away from his gaze. ‘Please. It’s been a dreadful day.’

And her manner, her guilty pose, must have been as good as a confession. He released her arm. ‘You were in on it too? Jesus Christ! I don’t believe it!’

Lilian said, ‘Frances has been looking after me.’

‘Oh, she’s been looking after you, all right.’ He put his hand to his greased hair. ‘God! Is this what you women get up to? And then you complain when men call you devious! How many other times have you done it? – No, look at me. Listen to me. I don’t care how ill you are.’ He stood over Lilian. ‘How many times, since that first one?’

She groaned. ‘Oh, don’t be stupid.’

‘I suppose this is your idea of – what? Paying me out? Having a go at me, are you?’

‘It’s got nothing to do with you.’

‘Nothing to do with me? Christ!’ His face twisted. ‘Oh, I can’t look at you. It’s making me sick. What the hell’s the matter with you, girl? I just don’t know what you want. You couldn’t stand it at Cheveney Avenue; all right, so I moved you here. I don’t keep you short of money. You do whatever the hell you want with the rooms; you’ve got them decked out like a bloody bordello! A kid would – what? Spoil the decorations? There’s more to life than silk ribbons, you know.’