Margaret Millar - Wives and Lovers

She was leaning far over now, her face only a foot or so from his, and she was smiling viciously, her mouth drawn back from her teeth, her eyes narrowed to slits.

“You poor slobbering idiot, you thought you could make a fool of me, didn’t you? But I got there first, I turned the tables on you! When we were invited some place, you know what I’d say? I’d say, I’m sorry we won’t be able to come tonight. Gordon has a date. I haven’t the faintest idea whether it’s the same girl or not. You know how men get at that age and poor old Gordon needs a little fling. Heaven knows it’s better for some girl who gets paid for it to bear the brunt of it rather than me.”

He struggled to his feet, clutching at the palm tree. One of the shoulder seams of his coat ripped. He began to run clumsily across the grass to the driveway.

Elaine stood there under the tree, watching him. It was only when she heard the engine of the car start that she realized his intention, and she began to run after him, waving the hat. The car streaked out of the driveway with Elaine stumbling along behind it. Gordon didn’t look back.

She returned to the club, limping. She had turned her ankle while she was running, and it was already beginning to swell. Judge Bowridge was at the checking counter putting on his coat and still humming.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” Bowridge said. “What’s happened to Gordon?”

“He’s gone,” Elaine said curtly.

“Gone?”

“He took the car and left. We had a disagreement.”

“I hope I didn’t precipitate it.”

“No.”

“You must let me drive you home.”

“No thanks, I’ll call a cab. Do you think I should report it to the police?”

“Report what?”

“Gordon. He’s drunk, he shouldn’t be driving around in his condition, he might wreck the only car we have. And who knows where he’s gone? I could report that my car was stolen, couldn’t I?”

“Is it registered under your name?”

“Gordon’s.”

“Then it isn’t stolen, obviously. Now, if a divorce was pending and the car was listed as community property, Gordon could be enjoined from removing it from the premises without your consent, until the community property was equably divided.”

“There’s no divorce pending, I assure you.”

“Then if I were you I’d go home. You’ll probably find Gordon there ahead of you.”

The checkroom attendant called a cab, and Elaine waited for it outside. It was a long time in coming, and her ankle throbbed, but she couldn’t go back inside and face the smiles of her friends. She stood haughtily on the stone steps, holding her head high. She had done what she thought was right in bringing up the subject of the girl, but now that it was done she felt a slight anxiety at the back of her mind. Gordon hadn’t reacted as she thought he would. He had made no denials, no protestations of shame; he hadn’t promised to give the girl up and never see her again. He simply got in the car and drove off.

She half-expected that the judge was right and that she’d find Gordon at home, already asleep, when she got there. But when the cab stopped in front of the house she saw that the garage doors were still open and the garage was empty. Judith had left her scooter out. It was on the front lawn propped up against the pyracantha bush. Elaine picked it up and put it on the veranda beside Paul’s little bicycle. Judith’s one-legged doll, Nancy, was seated on the bicycle, draped in one of Paul’s sweaters. Elaine looked down at the abandoned toys of her sleeping children, and her throat thickened with regret and a growing fear.

In the dim light of the front room she saw Ruth asleep on the davenport. She had her tweed coat flung over her as a blanket, and she had spread a newspaper on the end of the davenport so that her shoes wouldn’t soil the slipcovers.

Elaine knew how nervous Ruth was about intruders, so she turned on another lamp in order that Ruth might see her immediately when she woke up.

“Ruth?”

“Who— Oh, dear.” She sat up and put her feet hastily on the floor. “My goodness, you’re home early. It’s not even midnight.”

“A quarter to.”

“What happened to your leg?”

“I turned my ankle on the dance floor,” Elaine said. “I thought I’d better come home. There was no sense in spoiling Gordon’s good time. I took a cab. I’ll call you one, when you’re ready to leave.”

“Oh no,” Ruth protested. “I can walk, it’s not a bit far.” It wasn’t, actually, very far, but the nights were dark, and all along the way there were high, dense hedges and massive shrubs. In the daytime they were pretty, with their bright green foliage, but at night they darkened to deep slate and black, shadows within shadows. The least sound, an exploring snail, a gopher, a bird threshing about in the leaves, would send her charging down the street seeking the shelter of the next street lamp. “I can walk,” she repeated stubbornly.

“No.” Elaine’s tone was final, and Ruth felt a deep gratitude toward her. No matter what some people might say, Hazel, for instance, Ruth had always found Mrs. Foster a lady, with a lady’s sense of obligation. It was hard for her to believe that the Fosters had quarrels, yet she knew it was true. Not only had Hazel told her, but Judith gave her detailed reports every Saturday night. The child had a wonderful memory, and sometimes she mimicked her mother with appalling cruelty. Ruth would try not to be shocked: “Now, Judith, it isn’t nice to imitate people.” “Well, she said it, she did so, didn’t she, Paul?” “She did so,” Paul agreed. “Well, you know,” Ruth said, “when we hear something we’re not supposed to hear, we must close our ears.” “Yes, but my ears won’t close,” Judith said earnestly.

Ruth got up and folded the newspaper and carried it out to the kitchen. When she returned, Elaine was sitting in the wing chair staring straight ahead of her at the lamp beside the davenport. Ruth glanced at the lamp too, to see if anything was wrong. No, the shade was on straight and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen.

When she had put her coat on, she said hesitantly, “Well, I guess you won’t be needing me any more tonight. Let’s see, I’ve been here three and a half hours, but we needn’t count the half, and you don’t have to pay me tonight if it’s not convenient.”

There was a long pause. Ruth kept buttoning and unbuttoning her coat, nervously. She was beginning to fear the worst — that Mrs. Foster had been drinking.

Without taking her eyes off the lamp, Elaine said, “Why don’t you stay here overnight?”

“Here?” Ruth said, immediately flustered. “Overnight? Oh, I couldn’t. Hazel’s expecting me, and what will Dr. Foster say when he gets home?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know whether he’s coming home.”

“A party can’t last forever.”

“He isn’t at the party,” Elaine said in a cold, dry voice. “He took the car and ran away.”

“Oh dear.”

“He was drunk and we had a fight.”

“What a shame.” We must close our ears. Yes, but my ears won’t close! “If he drives around, the air will sober him up.”

“I said some things I shouldn’t. Some of them were lies. I only lied to protect myself. I didn’t want him to think that he’d made a fool of me. I didn’t — I tell you I never did say anything to other people about Gordon and his — girl. I pretended she never existed. I never mentioned her, I don’t even know her name.”

She transferred her eyes, very carefully, as if they would break under any swift movement, from the lamp to Ruth. “You’re shocked.”

“No, no, I’m not.” Ruth’s face was burning.