The World According to Bertie - Alexander Hanchett Smith [121]
He felt reassured; the situation was awkward, yes, but no more than that. And Julia would get over him quickly enough, even if she decided to go ahead with having the baby. If she did that, of course, Bruce felt that it would be her own decision – and her own responsibility. The baby, no doubt, would be good-looking – just like me, he mused – and would keep her company, would give her something to do other than read those stupid magazines and have her hair styled. So getting her pregnant, really, was an act of kindness on his part, a gift.
Over the days that followed, Bruce was careful to give no indication that he had found out about Julia’s pregnancy. And Julia, for her part, did nothing to indicate that her situation had changed. They were pleasant enough to one another and they talked about much the same things that they always talked about. They went to a party together and had some mutual friends round to the flat in Howe Street. Nothing was said, not a word, to suggest that anything had changed or would change in the future.
But then Julia announced to Bruce one morning that she had invited her father for dinner that night and that he was looking forward to meeting her new flatmate.
‘He likes you already,’ she said. ‘He told me that on the phone.’
Bruce smiled. Of course her father would like him, but surely he should have the chance to meet him first. It was typical of Julia, he thought, half-fondly: she was enthusiastic about everything.
‘But he hasn’t met me yet,’ Bruce pointed out. ‘I’m not sure if one can like somebody without meeting him first.’
Julia laughed. ‘But Daddy does,’ she said. ‘I tell him all the things you say and he says: “Seems pretty sound to me.” So, you see, he knows you quite well already.’
‘Oh well,’ said Bruce. ‘I look forward to meeting him too. He sounds a nice guy, your old man.’
‘Oh, he is,’ said Julia. ‘He’s so kind too. He’s always been kind.’
Bruce was curious about Julia’s mother. She had never mentioned her, as he could recall, and he wondered if there was some difficulty there.
‘And your mother, Julia? Is she . . . ?’
Julia looked down at the floor. ‘She’s dead, I’m afraid. Or we think she’s dead.’
Bruce was puzzled. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Well, it was fairly awful,’ said Julia. ‘They went to the Iguazu Falls in South America. They didn’t take me – I was quite young then, and I was left with my aunt in Drymen. You know, right on Loch Lomond. And . . .’
‘Nice place,’ said Bruce.
‘Yes,’ said Julia. ‘But they were in Argentina, you see, and . . .’ She broke off.
‘Oh well,’ said Bruce.
Julia said nothing, and Bruce shifted in his chair. Something had obviously happened at the Iguazu Falls, but perhaps it was better not to go there, he thought, in the metaphorical sense, of course. One could always go to the Iguazu Falls but not . . .
Julia interrupted his train of thought. ‘I don’t really like to talk about it,’ she said.
‘No,’ said Bruce. ‘But I’m really looking forward to meeting your father. I really am.’
‘I’m so pleased, Brucie,’ she said. ‘Just the four of us.’
Bruce looked up sharply. ‘Four?’
Julia’s eyes widened. ‘Did I say four? Four? I meant three, of course. Daddy, me, Daddy. That’s three. That’s what I meant.’
Bruce frowned. ‘You counted your father twice,’ he said. ‘You mentioned two daddies. You did.’
Julia was becoming flustered. ‘Oh, Brucie, you’re getting me all mixed up. What I meant was you, me and Daddy. That makes three.’
‘I see.’
‘And I’m going to cook something really nice,’ she said. ‘And you’ll have the chance to chat with Daddy.’
‘About?’ asked Bruce casually.
‘Anything,’ said Julia. ‘Rugby. Business. Politics. Anything you like. He’s very easy. In fact, you could talk to him about property things. You know a lot about that, being a surveyor and all. Daddy has quite a bit of commercial property.’
Bruce hesitated a moment. ‘Commercial property?