Her Living Image by Jane Rogers

Alan came back Trevor and Lucy were at home. He found them, most unusually, sitting either side of the fireplace having a drink together. Pam had been out
at a friend’s all evening.
    “Did you have a nice time?”
    His mother giggled. “Have you been into their house? You must have been – isn’t it sweet? I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much furniture in one little room. You
should have seen our tea: ham, salad, cheese, crackers, potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, bread-and-butter, trifle
–
all at once, mind you – cream cake, sherry, cups of tea –
” She counted them all off on her fingers, smiling innocently as she spoke. “It was perfectly wonderful.”
    Alan asked his father, “Did you like them?”
    “The mother seems a kindly soul. I don’t know about the father. He hardly said a word. Is he very shy?”
    “He wants to kill me, Carolyn said.”
    They stared at him in silence. At last Lucy said, “What on earth for?”
    “Getting his daughter up the spout.”
    There was another shocked silence. His father cleared his throat. “I – well, I hadn’t realized he felt like that. It was all – it was all very civilized and friendly.
There wasn’t really any difficulty over it. I wonder if
–
I wish you’d told me that, Alan. Perhaps I could have had a bit of a chat to him.”
    Alan shrugged. “Don’t think it would make any difference.”
    His mother took a swig of her brandy. He could see she was recovering.
    “The detail in that house really is splendid, isn’t it?” She turned to Trevor. “Did you notice what they had above the fireplace?”
    “No – horses, something like that.”
    “Yes,” she enthused, “exactly. That famous one from Woolworth’s – with the horses charging out of the sea. I’ve never seen it on a wall in a real house
before. It was worth it just for that.”
    “It’s on more walls in more houses than any other picture in the country,” Trevor said mildly. “That and Tina.”
    “And the carpets!” she cried, getting into her stride now. “They are so wonderful! Who on earth designs them? With patterns like – like giant sputniks, and about
twenty colours in them.” She smiled at Alan. “They positively assault you, don’t they? I bet you could keep thieves out with a carpet like that.”
    “You mean, they’d know there was nothing worth stealing?” said Alan.
    His mother looked at him for a moment without an expression on her face, then she smiled and waved her glass at him. “All I can say is, I hope young Pam shows a bit more taste and
discernment when she chooses her parents-in-law.”
    She said it as if it was a joke, but Alan knew perfectly well that she meant it from the bottom of her heart. He went to the door.
    “Alan?” she said. “Come on darling, can’t you see the funny side? We liked her parents, they were loves. I expect they’d have a giggle about our house, if they
came round here.”
    “Goodnight,” he said, and shut the door. He hated her.
    Carolyn and Alan did not make love again until they were married. It was Alan’s idea. He made a sour kind of joke out of it, that they must wait until their wedding night. Carolyn
agreed because she could see he meant it, although she didn’t understand why. On their wedding night he was drunk, and she was affectionate and clinging, and it was as hopeless as he had been
predicting to himself. He felt, when he woke the next morning, that his life was at an end – a complete disaster.
    Alan’s term began again on January 20th, and he returned to university with a guilty sense of relief. Carolyn, who still had her job at the ‘Craft Basket’, stayed at
home.
    “I do think you’re sensible, love, doing it like this,” said her mother. “It’s far better. He can get on with his studying, without getting distracted, and you
can be earning your little bit and putting it away towards a house. And your Dad and I can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re not overdoing it,