The Way We Were_ A Novel - Marcia Willett [42]
1976
With her grandmother's death, Tiggy casts off any further dissembling: she no longer tries to hide herself away when Julia's friends turn up, nor does she avoid going into the village. She lets it be known that she and Tom were to have been married at Easter but he'd died before the wedding could take place. His baby must take his name, she decides, and so will she. She will no longer be Stamper but Dacre; nobody will care and, had Tom lived, her name would now be Dacre.
‘It's odd,’ she tells Julia, ‘but now that Grandmother's dead it doesn't seem to matter any more. I admit that I would have hated to tell her about the baby – I was going to be cowardly and do it by letter – but now everyone might as well know the truth. Actually, it's a relief. Well,’ she adds ruefully, ‘most of the time it is.’
Julia nods. ‘There will always be some people who will suck their teeth and roll their eyes and whisper – but who cares? The ones who really know you won't give a damn.’
‘Angela doesn't belong to either of those categories,’ says Tiggy thoughtfully.
‘I'll tell her if you like,’ offers Julia.
‘Oh, no,’ answers Tiggy cheerfully ‘To tell you the truth, I'm rather looking forward to it.’
‘Poor you,’ says Angela, blowing her cigarette smoke sideways, eyes narrowed with malicious amusement. ‘Rotten timing. However will you manage?’
Tiggy shrugs. ‘Impossible to say.’
‘I expect your family will come round in the end,’ suggests Angela, ‘once they're over the shock.’
‘I don't have any family’ says Tiggy bleakly ‘Now that my grandmother is dead I have nobody.’
‘And you wouldn't consider adoption?’
‘No.’
Angela raises her eyebrows, draws down the corners of her lips. ‘Well, good for you. I'm full of admiration.’
Odd, thinks Tiggy, how this smiling commendation has the power to send a trickle of cold terror into her gut. Safe in her own strong fort of marriage and security, Angela regards her across the table; the narrow gaze penetrates Tiggy's brave exterior and probes the tender parts of vulnerability beneath.
‘So will you stay here? In Cornwall?’
‘Probably I shall have to find a job, of course.’
‘You make it sound so easy. But who will look after the baby?’
‘I shall,’ says Julia, intervening at last. ‘Tiggy's part of our family now. One more baby won't make any difference to my mob.’
Angela's disbelieving, patronizing little smile is insufferable. ‘When's Pete back?’ she asks.
‘Soon,’ says Julia, after a moment. A couple of weeks.’
Angela makes big eyes at her. ‘What fun,’ she says suggestively, knowingly. ‘I can't wait to see him.’
‘You might have to,’ answers Julia. ‘We're going upcountry for his leave.’
‘I expect I shall see him around. You'll have to come to dinner when you get back.’ She glances at her watch. ‘I must go and fetch Cat from playschool.’
Julia goes out with her; when she returns the girls stare at each other in silence.
‘What is it about her?’ asks Tiggy at last. ‘I have this longing to be really rude to her. And all this hinting about Pete. Why do you let her get away with it?’
Julia shakes her head. ‘It's like being with someone who plays by completely different rules from yours. You think you know the moves of the game but you can't be certain, and you hesitate and wait and meanwhile she gets right in there and hits below the belt.’
‘But why?’ demands Tiggy. ‘I mean, why don't you just respond in kind? Be rude. Throw her out.’
‘Because I'm afraid of her,’ says Julia.
CHAPTER SEVEN
2004
‘Val's in a bate,’ Liv said, sitting on the sofa, legs curled under her, clasping a mug of coffee. She pushed a scarlet cushion behind her back. ‘It's getting to be a permanent state so Chris is on a bit of a