To Have and to Hold by Deborah Moggach Page A

always been slender but now, in her labelled apron, she looked about twenty years old, and frail.
    He said: ‘I promise I’ll behave.’
    â€˜This evening must be a success.’
    He nodded. ‘God help us . . .’
    7.45. Viv had rubbed the marks off her apron and hung it up. The table was laid. She had even found the real napkins Ann had once given her. They looked well pressed, because they had never been used.
    8.0. ‘Hurry up, Ollie!’ She called upstairs, leaning on the banisters. He was right, of course, it was stupid to be so jittery.
    Back in the kitchen she paced around the table. She was wearing her loose lurex harem trousers, the sort of garment you could hopefully curl up in and relax.
    Ollie joined her in the kitchen. They drank a gin and tonic.
    At last she asked: ‘Should we phone?’
    â€˜Ken’s never late.’
    She lit another cigarette, annoyed with herself because she wanted to save up any cigarette-smoking for when Ken and Ann were there.
    8.15 . . . 8.20. ‘Bad for the nerves,’ said Ollie.
    â€˜Bad for the
bœuf en croute
.’
    He raised his eyebrows. ‘Surrogate motherhood’s going to be an expensive business.’
    8.35.
    â€˜Perhaps they’re late,’ said Ollie, ‘because they know we’re always late.’
    The bell rang. They jumped.
    â€˜You go,’ said Viv.
    â€˜No, you.’
    â€˜Wimp,’ she said.
    She went along the passage and opened the front door. Ann stood there. Viv looked beyond her; Ken must be parking the car.
    Ann said: ‘He’s not coming.’
    The three of them sat at the table, eating bean salad. Ken’s empty place had not been cleared away; Ollie said he might have second thoughts.
    â€˜I called him a coward,’ said Ann. ‘I shouted at him. It was awful.’
    Viv poured them some more wine. ‘I still don’t understand. Is he going to go through with this or not?’
    â€˜I don’t know. All he said was it was too private for one of your big heart-to-hearts.’
    Ollie gestured round the room. What does he think? We’re on
Candid Camera
?’
    â€˜He’s shy, you see,’ said Ann.
    â€˜Shy?’
    Viv nodded. ‘Course he is. That’s why he gets so aggressive.’
    Ann looked at them pleadingly. ‘He’s not a coward really. He’d be the first over the trenches.’
    Viv smiled. ‘But you don’t have to talk then.’
    Ollie mopped up his vinaigrette with some bread. ‘There’s so much stuff we’ve got to talk about . . .’
    â€˜I know,’ said Ann. ‘The legal side, the money side. He wants to discuss those.’
    â€˜Why the hell isn’t he here then?’
    â€˜Ollie!’ Viv glared at him.
    Ann paused. ‘You know perfectly well why.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because you make him feel inferior.’
    â€˜We don’t!’ said Viv.
    Ann nodded. ‘It shows.’
    â€˜What does?’
    â€˜The trying.’
    Ken knelt on the kitchen floor, mending the ironing board. He banged in a nail. Beside him, spread out on a newspaper, was the broken teapot he’d been meaning to mend for months. He would get on to that next.
    While Viv poured out the coffee, Ollie went over to the fridge and brought out a bottle of champagne.
    â€˜Let’s drink this anyway.’ He opened it, and filled three glasses. They raised them. ‘To this generation, and the next.’
    Viv said: ‘And the older one too.’
    â€˜What?’ asked Ann.
    â€˜Dad and Vera.’
    Ann put down her glass. ‘What?’
    There was a silence.
    Viv said: ‘Hasn’t he told you?’
    â€˜Told me what?’
    Viv stared at her. ‘Oh God.’
    â€˜What’s happened?’
    â€˜I presumed he’d told you by now.’ Viv paused. ‘He’s getting married again.’
    There was a pause as Ann took a sip from her glass. ‘No