for the sake of the little
one.”
Carolyn nodded. She had not been given any choice in the matter. Alan had obviously expected to return to university alone, once the fuss was over. And there certainly wasn’t any point
in her moving out of her Mum’s to live alone at a time like this.
It was as if she wasn’t married; just as it had been before, going to bed in her pink and white room, setting off for the ‘Craft Basket’ at half-past eight in the morning,
just as she used to set off for school, home by five-thirty, tea, telly, and some needlework to keep herself occupied. She was making a patchwork quilt for the baby’s cot. Meg had already
knitted a whole drawerful of matinée
jackets and bootees, in white, pink and blue. (“I’ll put whichever colour it doesn’t need in the shop window, love.
They’ll all get used, don’t you worry.”)
Alan came back most weekends, and they went out for long drives in his father’s car. At Easter Carolyn went to stay with him at university for a week. He was borrowing a house that two
of his student friends rented. They had both gone home to their parents’. It was a dingy, poorly furnished little terrace, reminding Carolyn of the old house on Railway Street. But it was the
first time they had ever lived privately together. This week was a revelation to both of them. They could do what they liked
–
go to bed, get up, eat, bath, go back to bed –
there were no rules. No one to notice or be offended. It was a week lifted out of real life. Carolyn’s pregnancy added to the strangeness. There was a neat solid bulge where her flat belly
had been. The baby was kicking, at night Alan lay with his hand on her side and felt the repeated thrusting movements. He found it almost repulsive to think of it in there, kicking at the walls;
but it roused him sexually as well. It made her strange. Sex was in the air all the time. Each was constantly aware of the other’s movements, the other’s body. Even if they were reading
or washing up, there seemed to be rays of heat running in the air between them. Pregnancy made Carolyn aware of her body in a way she had never been before; her small breasts had become heavy and
almost painfully sensitive, and when Alan stroked her, or breathed close with his hot breath on her nipples, she felt giddy and weak.
“Will it be like this when we live together, do you think?” Carolyn found it suddenly possible to talk about the future, which she had not dared to do before. It was the middle
of a dim afternoon. Outside the rain pattered lightly on the window, and in the room there was a great sense of tranquillity. They were lying on the bed after making love, every trace of lust
scoured out of them, their bodies clean and abandoned.
“I don’t know,” Alan said slowly. “I hope so.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked. She felt that everything between them was clear now, so that speech was like dropping pebbles into clear water and watching them sink to
their resting place. The friction of their bodies had rubbed away all the untidy mess of misunderstanding, and they could speak directly.
“I could rent a place like this next year. In September.”
“September,” she repeated, and listened to the rain.
“You’ll have to stay at home till the baby’s born, won’t you?”
“Yes. We could move before September, though. We could move in the summer.”
“Yes. We’ll do that.”
They lay quietly, fingers just touching, Carolyn watching the lightshade sway in a slight draught, Alan watching the gentle rise and fall of her ribcage as she breathed
.
Chapter 9
Carolyn began to notice the household around her. She came downstairs for all her meals. She was still very quiet and unapproachable, jumping and stammering if a remark was
addressed to her, but self-contained. Disciplined. Able to sit, composedly, eating and listening while they talked. She was still an awkward presence because she was never relaxed;
one.”
Carolyn nodded. She had not been given any choice in the matter. Alan had obviously expected to return to university alone, once the fuss was over. And there certainly wasn’t any point
in her moving out of her Mum’s to live alone at a time like this.
It was as if she wasn’t married; just as it had been before, going to bed in her pink and white room, setting off for the ‘Craft Basket’ at half-past eight in the morning,
just as she used to set off for school, home by five-thirty, tea, telly, and some needlework to keep herself occupied. She was making a patchwork quilt for the baby’s cot. Meg had already
knitted a whole drawerful of matinée
jackets and bootees, in white, pink and blue. (“I’ll put whichever colour it doesn’t need in the shop window, love.
They’ll all get used, don’t you worry.”)
Alan came back most weekends, and they went out for long drives in his father’s car. At Easter Carolyn went to stay with him at university for a week. He was borrowing a house that two
of his student friends rented. They had both gone home to their parents’. It was a dingy, poorly furnished little terrace, reminding Carolyn of the old house on Railway Street. But it was the
first time they had ever lived privately together. This week was a revelation to both of them. They could do what they liked
–
go to bed, get up, eat, bath, go back to bed –
there were no rules. No one to notice or be offended. It was a week lifted out of real life. Carolyn’s pregnancy added to the strangeness. There was a neat solid bulge where her flat belly
had been. The baby was kicking, at night Alan lay with his hand on her side and felt the repeated thrusting movements. He found it almost repulsive to think of it in there, kicking at the walls;
but it roused him sexually as well. It made her strange. Sex was in the air all the time. Each was constantly aware of the other’s movements, the other’s body. Even if they were reading
or washing up, there seemed to be rays of heat running in the air between them. Pregnancy made Carolyn aware of her body in a way she had never been before; her small breasts had become heavy and
almost painfully sensitive, and when Alan stroked her, or breathed close with his hot breath on her nipples, she felt giddy and weak.
“Will it be like this when we live together, do you think?” Carolyn found it suddenly possible to talk about the future, which she had not dared to do before. It was the middle
of a dim afternoon. Outside the rain pattered lightly on the window, and in the room there was a great sense of tranquillity. They were lying on the bed after making love, every trace of lust
scoured out of them, their bodies clean and abandoned.
“I don’t know,” Alan said slowly. “I hope so.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked. She felt that everything between them was clear now, so that speech was like dropping pebbles into clear water and watching them sink to
their resting place. The friction of their bodies had rubbed away all the untidy mess of misunderstanding, and they could speak directly.
“I could rent a place like this next year. In September.”
“September,” she repeated, and listened to the rain.
“You’ll have to stay at home till the baby’s born, won’t you?”
“Yes. We could move before September, though. We could move in the summer.”
“Yes. We’ll do that.”
They lay quietly, fingers just touching, Carolyn watching the lightshade sway in a slight draught, Alan watching the gentle rise and fall of her ribcage as she breathed
.
Chapter 9
Carolyn began to notice the household around her. She came downstairs for all her meals. She was still very quiet and unapproachable, jumping and stammering if a remark was
addressed to her, but self-contained. Disciplined. Able to sit, composedly, eating and listening while they talked. She was still an awkward presence because she was never relaxed;
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