“Oh, George!” She gave a funny, choking little laugh.
“Fact.” He turned to a sideboard and took out brandy and glasses, talking all the time: “I’d been out to Milton Park -it was the beginning of the Rugger season and I was pretty active, then. Nothing like so fat! And you were playing tennis-all knee-length white skirt and ankle-socks: what your darling daughter would probably call square, or what goes for square, today. And I was fascinated. Never seen such long and attractive legs. Mind you, my eyes did soon travel to higher things.” He was smiling down on her, now. He gave her the brandy, then perched on the arm of the chair. “So you had an X-ray?”
“Yes.”
“Any official comment?”
“Not really. She said the doctor-a Dr. Phillips — would let me know in a day or two.”
“Where did you go, love?”
“South Western.”
“I’ll have a word with them in the morning.” He smiled, pressed her shoulder, then stood up and crossed to a small chair. Sitting squarely opposite her, he asked: “How do you feel, truly?”
“I get pains — here.” She placed her hand just above her waist and just below her left breast. “I know it’s the sort of tiling-well, I know women always are terrified of cancer, but—’
“A pain that gets you down is nothing to laugh off,” he told her, equably despite his thumping heart. “How are you at this moment?”
“I feel better than I have for weeks, George. I suppose it’s psychological — I came back and had a good cry and I felt much brighter! I haven’t enjoyed getting a meal so much for a long time. I knew the children wouldn’t be home.” She closed her eyes, looking thoroughly contented, and Gideon felt a warmth of contentment creeping over him. Tomorrow he would pull strings to get the result of that X-ray fast. But looking at Kate now, he could not believe there was anything seriously wrong with her.
He thought, without tension, of what was happening at Hampstead. Hobbs could cope. Thank God for Hobbs!
That brought him, sharply, to Penelope. Sharply; but to his surprise, without a jolt. Kate opened her eyes and spoke in a quiet voice. There was a degree of telepathy between them: the kind that often grows between husband and wife.
“Did Alec tell you how he feels about Penelope?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, quietly.
“How did it — affect you?”
“I still don’t know,” he told her, frankly. “The main thing is, how does it affect Penny?”
After a long pause, Kate nodded. “I’m not sure she knows. I really do think she sometimes sees him as an elder brother; or an uncle. At least I think she does. But it’s remarkable how often she has a wild affair with a boy her own age, and then rushes back to Alec. He is ‘family’, to her.”
Gideon said: “I see.”
“Whether she ever thinks —” Kate broke off, sat up more, and sipped her brandy. “George, do you realise that she’s twenty-five?”
“I try to make myself,” he grimaced. “I still see her in a gymslip and pigtails.”
“I do, too, sometimes. But more often she’s way beyond me, in thinking and in attitudes, and I don’t argue with her too much. I feel that if I argue, I’ll seem to be putting up a sort of barrier. Whereas if I seem to take everything naturally, no matter how outrageous, she won’t hesitate to come to me and talk. In a funny way, she’s the only one I’ve got left, George. The longer the others are married, the more they seem to draw away.”
“I know,” Gideon said gruffly. “Hurt much?”
“Not really. The grandchildren help — but that’s a red herring, George. And you know it! We were talking about Penny.”
“Yes,” Gideon agreed, more heavily. “We were.” He paused, then taking the big pipe from his pocket, got up and went to a Chinese willow-pattern tobacco jar on the mantelshelf, and began to fill the pipe. “I’m not sure I want —” He tamped tobacco down; then glanced up and went on almost exasperatedly: “I’m not sure that I want to think too much about Penny just now. There’s an awful gap between her and Alec. Age gap, generation gap, tradition gap, behaviour gap — I don’t know what to call it, but I know it’s there.” He was looking at Kate with something more than earnestness, and there had seldom been more feeling in his voice: “What do you mean — no matter how outrageous?”
“Is that what you really want to know?” asked Kate.
“I suppose it is, yes.” That came almost as a growl. “What do you mean?”
“George,” Kate said, “I’m not really sure how old-fashioned you are — or I am. I mean — well, I still have doubts about the Pill, even! I’m all for it, in a detached way. For other people. But I don’t know how I would feel about it myself, if I still needed — needed a contraceptive.” When he made no comment, she went on: “Penny knows and takes for granted more about the Pill, about sex, about deviations, about homosexuality, than I’ve ever heard of. Of course, you know, you come across so many examples of perversion and such like through the Yard, but Penny — she takes so much for granted!”
Gideon finished filling his pipe. He put it between his teeth and pressed it down heavily-and almost bit the stem off. There was a box of matches on the mantel-shelf and he picked it up but didn’t take out a match.
“Are you telling me she uses the Pill?”
“She tells me that a lot of her friends do. I think it’s her way of telling me that she does. A kind of: ‘Don’t ask questions, Mummy, but I do want you to know’. I’m not sure,” Kate emphasised, “but it does seem — likely.” When he didn’t speak, she went on almost desperately: “It is a new world, George!”
“And a fine mess it is!” he growled. He was glowering, but he still did not light his pipe. “What do you really feel about it, Kate?”
She spent a long time looking for a word, then said simply: “Resigned.”
He was startled into a smile.
“Good an attitude as any, I suppose,” he conceded. “It’s their world and their life, but . . . I was reading some statistics from the Home Office, the other day. One child in seven is illegitimate; the mothers of three in ten of those can’t name the father, although most can narrow it down to two or three possibilities. There was a sociologist’s report that it is estimated that over ninety nine cent of unmarried woman between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five have had carnal knowledge, often with more than three men. As a statistic, I accept this. But when it comes to my own daughter—”
At last, he struck a match; savagely. The flame flared and he let the fumes disperse, then began to draw at the pipe. The smoke was pungent but pleasant. He hadn’t smoked a pipe for weeks, and now pulled at it as if he wanted to start a bonfire.
Kate — relaxed, and still in his big chair — watched the smoke billow about his head, then slowly disperse. At last, she murmured: “I’ve always hated the phrase ‘carnal knowledge’ — even more than ‘sexual intercourse’.”
“Tell me a better,” Gideon growled.
“Made love to,” Kate suggested, gently.
“Oh, sentimental tommy-rot — whitewash! I — “ He broke off, waving the smoke away; obviously struck by a new, even startling thought. He was silent for a long time before saying: “Do you think Alec knows?”
“Knows what, George?”
“Whether she’s ‘made love’ to all or any of these young men she brings home.”