A Family Affair. Nancy Carson

the bloke, already pregnant. And the child certainly wasn’t mine.’

      ‘I imagine you were upset, Tom.’

      ‘I was engaged to be married to her. I was in love with her. Yes, I was upset.’

      ‘And you had no idea what was going on behind your back?’

      ‘Not then. Oh, looking back now I can see there were lots of clues, but I was oblivious to them. I imagined her not wanting me to touch her was a passing phase – something all women go through. I thought the reasons she gave not to see me sometimes on our regular nights were genuine, and I never challenged them. Oh, there were lots of little things – insignificant on their own, but when you view them as a whole, a different picture develops.’

      ‘It’s a shame you had to go through all that…Good for me, though, Tom…Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.’

      ‘No, I don’t suppose I would.’ He smiled cheerfully to indicate he was over the trauma. ‘The trouble is, Clover, when something like that happens, you tend to lose confidence in yourself, in women, in human nature. I’d never allow it to happen again. I’d know the symptoms another time and at the first signs I’d…well, I’d just walk away.’

      ‘Only right, Tom,’ she agreed. ‘A couple has to be committed to each other if they want their relationship to work.’

      They fell silent for a few moments while they each digested what the other had said. The shadows were lengthening and the low sun, directly in front of them, was promising a rhetorical bedtime for itself.

      ‘How old are you, Tom?’

      ‘Twenty-five. And you?’

      ‘You should never ask a girl how old she is,’ she said feigning indignation. ‘But I’ll tell you anyway. I’m twenty. I was twenty last month.’

      He laughed at the way she changed direction so quickly. ‘That’s a nice age gap between a man and woman, five years. Don’t you think?’

      ‘I hadn’t thought about it. Ned’s two years younger than you.’

      ‘Ah, Ned, eh? Good old Ned…I must say, he seems a decent sort. The sort who wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

      ‘He’s too wrapped up in what he’s doing to hurt anything,’ Clover mused. ‘So how did the photographs turn out?’

      He waved the envelope that contained them. ‘Let’s sit on that bench over there and I’ll show you.’

      ‘Are they good?’

      ‘They’re fine.’

      ‘Do you live with your folks, Tom?’ Clover asked, changing tack again.

      ‘Yes, I do. I have a sister, Lily, the same age – no, a year older than you. She’s getting married soon, so she’ll be leaving home to live with her new husband. I have another sister, called Frances who is already married and pregnant, and a brother called Cedric who is married with children.’

      ‘So where do you live? Nobody’s ever mentioned it.’

      ‘Stafford Street, towards the top. By Top Church. That damned great clock of theirs often wakes me up in the middle of the night, striking.’

      She laughed, a sympathetic laugh. ‘You poor old thing.’

      By this time they had reached the bench that looked out onto shrubberies where rhododendrons blossomed in profusion. Clover dusted off the bench with her handkerchief to protect her new white dress, then sat down expectantly, her back gracefully erect, her knees drawn towards Tom. Tom sat down casually and opened the brown envelope. He drew out the pictures and handed them to her.

      ‘Oh, yes, they’re really good, Tom…Look at Amos’s expression here. He’s such a nit.’ She laughed at them, at how ordinary they all looked, at their incongruity with what they had achieved together – especially Ned. ‘That’s a good one of Ned. He looks so serious – he always looks serious…God, don’t I look awful?’

      ‘Actually, I think you look beautiful,’ Tom answered, his voice low. ‘I took the liberty of enlarging that portion of the photo to show just you…the very bottom one…I thought I’d keep it for myself, if you have no objection…’

      She pulled it out and glanced at it, then hid her face with it, giggling girlishly. ‘I look so stupid,’ she said self-effacingly, and blushing for she felt his eyes hot upon her.

      ‘Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself, Clover?’ he asked seriously. ‘You’re really a very beautiful girl.’

      ‘Lord, I’m not,’ she countered flatly. ‘My nose is too long for a start.’

      ‘You have the most scintillating nose I’ve ever seen,’ he said sincerely. ‘It was one of the first things about you that really struck me.’

      ‘About ten minutes before the rest of me came into view, you mean,’ she said with humour brimming in her eyes. ‘Stop laughing, for God’s sake. It’s not that funny.’

      ‘Yes it is.’ He spread his arms across the backrest of the bench so that one was behind her.

      ‘You wouldn’t think it was funny if you were stuck with it.’

      He couldn’t help but laugh for quite some time. He had never anticipated that Clover Beckitt could be so amusing. ‘You’re a jewel, Clover.’

      ‘A jewel, eh?’

      ‘Yes, a jewel. Don’t denigrate yourself. Few girls are as lovely as you are. And you know what’s most appealing about you?’

      She rolled her eyes, wondering what gem he would come out with next. ‘Don’t say my nose.’

      ‘You don’t acknowledge your looks. You’re not affected by them. You’re just natural.’

      ‘You mean that’s good?’

      ‘It makes you different, Clover. I get young women all the time in my studio, come to have their photographs taken for their sweethearts or husbands. Most are nowhere near as pretty as you. Yet they have such a bob on themselves, some of them. They really think they’re something special when they’re not at all. You are the exact opposite. That’s refreshing – and appealing.’

      Clover tried hard not to blush, but she couldn’t help it. ‘Anyway, I think Ned will be pleased with these. And that Julian chap, the reporter.’

      ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I just hope they do Ned some good. I reckon he deserves recognition for what he’s achieved already. It seems there’s nobody else in this country seriously attempting flight. I wonder why it should be left to some ordinary bloke with no great education and little money to do all the groundwork for something as important. Such apathy is unforgivable.’

      Clover shrugged. ‘Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’

      ‘Here we are, the richest country on earth and nobody cares tuppence about aviation, except Ned Brisco.’

      ‘And me.’

      He laughed. ‘Yes, and you.’

      ‘Are you a wealthy man, Tom?’ she asked.

      He looked at her curiously. ‘God, Clover! Why do you ask? Does it make any difference?’

      ‘No, no difference at all, but you always wear such nice clothes. I mean, look at this suit your wearing…’ she fingered the material of his lapels admiringly and he enjoyed the intimacy of it. ‘You always look so smart. Even when you came to Rough Hill this morning you looked smart.’

      ‘Well, to answer your question, Clover, I’m not a wealthy man. I wear decent clothes because I come into contact with the public who spend money with me. If I was a scruffy article, people might assume my work would be scruffy. I can’t afford for people to think that. But I’ve worked up a decent little business and I earn enough to buy nice clothes