A Choice of Enemies (31 page)

“Didn’t Mr. Winkleman send you a gift?”

“Yes.…”

“And your friend Bob sent a wire, didn’t he?”

“Yes. That was a surprise. But all the same –”

“Aren’t you pleased?”

“Certainly I am, but –”

“I knew you would be,” she said happily. “I phoned them.”

“You what?”

“I phoned to say you were getting married. Mr. Winkleman said he’d like to have a talk with you any time you’re free. He’s holding some money for you, or something, he said.”

“I’m to appear before them, am I?” He laughed. “I wonder if there are any names I can give them.”

“Oh, don’t pretend to be angry. I knew you were too proud to call them, so I did it myself.”

“Vivian.”

“You’re glad,” she said. “Admit it.”

Norman fiddled anxiously with his glasses. “I’m going back to teaching,” he said. “I’ve put films and all that behind me.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “You’d never be happy in some ghastly provincial university. I know you so well, Norman.”

“Look here, Vivian, there’s a book. Something I’ve been promising myself to finish for years, and I –”

“A novel,” Vivian said, excited. “You’re writing a novel.”

“No, not quite. It’s meant to be a scholarly – About Dryden and his period. You see –”

“Oh, Norman.”

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” he said, “but it’s rather important to me.”

“I promised Cyril you’d introduce him to Winkleman.”

Norman looked at his wife and wondered if a year or two of these people would be enough for her. She’s an intelligent enough girl, he thought. “
O.K.
,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Vivian brought him a whisky and soda, his mail, the Saturday edition of the Montreal
Star
, and his slippers.

Norman immediately came across Ernst’s picture and the story. He read how one Joseph Rader had saved Hyman Gordon’s life, won awards, cheques, and was going to marry a German widow. Then, for the first time in months, Norman recalled Hornstein vividly. Once again the ferocious little man climbed back into his machine and dived it into the Thames. “Vivian,” Norman called thickly.

“Yes?”

“I’d like for us to have a child. Almost right away, I mean.”

“A child? Good Lord!”

“Yes,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

She tried to hide her displeasure. Norman was eleven years older than her, and that was plenty, but she hadn’t realized until now that he was middle-aged.

“Maybe next year,” she said.

He made no attempt to conceal his disappointment.

“I thought we might do some travelling first. A child, you know, is a full time job for a woman.”

“It doesn’t have to be, Vivian. I mean –”

“You’re being a bit selfish, I think.”

Norman got up, went into the kitchen, and threw the Star into the waste basket. When he came back he said, “We’ll wait one year for a child, but that’s all.”

Vivian abandoned her broom and fled into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lit a cigarette. Vivian was scared. Gradually, however, she began to calm down. Flipping through an old copy of
Life
she came across a picture of Grace Kelly. I wonder, she thought, if I can persuade him to take me to the Cannes Film Festival next year.

Norman poured himself a stiffer drink. He wondered whether Vivian would object to asking Kate round to dinner tomorrow night.