A Lesser Evil Part 2

'I can't imagine what you mean,' Clara said, putting her nose in the air. 'Have I browbeaten any of your other boyfriends?'

'Not exactly, but you can be a bit much. Look at the time I went out with Gerald, the medical student. You frightened him off with all those questions about his father.'

'I was only interested; his father was a top surgeon at Guy's, after all.'

'Yes, but Gerald felt so intimidated he didn't want to come here again. I think he thought you'd got our wedding all planned.'

'I can't be blamed for hoping my daughter will marry well.'

'I'd only been out with him a couple of times, Mum,' Fifi said in exasperation.

'Well, all that was a long time ago,' Clara said dismissively. 'Anyway, this young man is an entirely different can of worms. If he has no family I can't ask him questions about them, can I?'

'Why do you have to question him?' Fifi asked. 'You don't question my girlfriends, you just chat. Do that with him!'

'About what?'

'Oh, Mum,' Fifi exclaimed. 'Anything television, film stars, favourite foods, a story in the news. He's really easy to talk to, it won't be difficult. Just don't act as if you're against, or suspicious of him.'

'You'd better ask him to tea tomorrow then,' Clara said.

'Does it have to be that formal?' Fifi asked hopefully. 'Can't I just get him to come and collect me tomorrow evening and have five minutes with you both before we go out?'

'You invite him round for tea,' Clara said firmly. 'If he can't cope with that, then there's something wrong with him. Now, for goodness' sake get that cardigan hung out on the line to dry. I shouldn't be surprised if it's shrunk to half the size now, you've had it in that water for far too long.'

Fifi had a heavy heart as she hung her was.h.i.+ng on the line. Dan would be pleased he'd been invited to tea; to him that would mean her family had accepted he was important to her. But all it really meant was that he would be on parade for her mother, who'd be giving him marks out of ten for table manners, cleanliness, intelligence, and a dozen other items that she'd decide on the day.

It would be a veritable minefield for Dan. He'd only got to stick his knife in the jam pot, pick his bread and b.u.t.ter up with the wrong hand or fail to use his napkin, and no matter how sparkling his conversation was, he would be blackballed.

Dan's table manners weren't that good, but he tried; Fifi had noticed him copying her on more than one occasion. She would have to hope he did it tomorrow too, for she certainly couldn't embarra.s.s him by suggesting she give him a crash course in her mother's pet hates tonight.

It was a balmy day, and the garden looked lovely with all the blossom and spring flowers. With luck, if it was still nice tomorrow, her parents might suggest having tea out here. That would be far less daunting for Dan. He really appreciated pretty gardens, and he knew a surprising amount about plants as he used to help in the garden at the children's home. That might stop her parents from a.s.suming he was some kind of villain.

'Don't worry, I'll be on my best behaviour,' Dan said later that afternoon as they sat up on the Downs above the Suspension Bridge, looking at the view of the Avon Gorge. 'I'll wash behind my ears, put on my best dazzling white s.h.i.+rt and polish my shoes.'

'Just don't let Mum keep asking you questions,' Fifi warned him. 'Ask her about plants, praise her cakes, and stuff like that. Patty will be lovely, she always is. Robin is mad about rugby and cricket and that's all he wants to talk about. Peter's not much of a talker, but he's interested in photography.'

'Of which I know nothing,' Dan smirked.

'You don't have to, just ask to see some of his work, you'll be his best mate then.'

'Are they both at college?'

'Yes, Robin's doing accountancy and Peter wants to be an architect. But don't worry about that, they aren't geniuses or anything.'

'Will your dad ask me if my intentions towards you are honourable?'

Fifi giggled. 'Of course he won't, he's not a heavy Victorian father. He's rather sweet, much gentler than Mum. Are your intentions honourable?'

'I'd give anything to go to bed with you,' Dan said, putting his arms round her and bending her backwards over the bench to kiss her neck. 'I suppose that's considered dishonourable?'

'My parents would think so,' she said, laughing and trying to extract herself from his clinch.

'Even if I said I wanted to marry you?'

'Do you?' Fifi asked, a.s.suming it was just a joke.

'More than anything else in the world,' he said.

Fifi was shocked to see his eyes were swimming. He had told her he loved her after knowing her just two weeks, but in such a light way that it wasn't possible to gauge whether he'd said it out of affection or real to-die-for pa.s.sion. Yet now she was left in no doubt.

'But we've only known each other six weeks,' she said, caressing his cheek tenderly.

'I knew on the first night you were the only girl for me,' he replied. 'All the other six weeks and two days has done is confirm it.'

Fifi held his face in her hands, loving his high cheekbones, his generous, s.e.xy mouth and his chocolate-brown eyes. She felt exactly as he said he did they were like twin souls but she hadn't dared even think about marriage.

'Are you asking me to marry you?' she whispered. 'Or is this one of your jokes?'

'I'll say it's a joke if you refuse, just to keep face,' he said with a weak grin. 'I wouldn't blame you refusing, it's not as if I can offer you anything. I haven't got any money, not even a car or a decent place to live. But I love you, I'd look after you and I'd treasure you.'

Tears came into Fifi's eyes then. Dan's love was all she wanted. 'Let's see how tomorrow goes first,' she whispered. 'You might not want me after you've met my mother!'

Chapter two.

Fifi looked around the table and not for the first time wondered why she was so different to the rest of her family.

Her father Harry, at the head of the table, was the personification of what everyone expected from an academic: tall and thin with stooping shoulders, gla.s.ses slightly askew on his nose, and a wide expanse of forehead which grew larger every year as his fair hair receded even further back. His maroon cardigan did nothing for his pale skin, but it had been knitted by his wife and as he had a very placid nature, it would never occur to him to abandon it for something more flattering.

Despite having a very strong bond with her father, Fifi didn't appear to have inherited anything from him, neither his looks nor his keen intelligence. She also wished he would take a stand on how he felt about family matters but he never did, just going along with his wife.

Fifi might look like her mother, but the similarity ended there. Right now Clara was poised like a graceful but ever watchful deer. She looked lovely in her best powder-blue wool dress and pearls, with her hair in a neat chignon, but the effect was spoiled by a fixed false smile. She was not a relaxed person at the best of times, but since Dan's arrival at three o'clock she had become extraordinarily tense.

Peter and Robin, nineteen and eighteen respectively, showed every sign of ending up looking just like their father. They were fresh-faced and bright-eyed, their backs as straight as guardsmen's now; a framed photograph of their father as a young man, in full view on the sideboard, could have been mistaken for either of his sons. They didn't share their father's sharp intellect, though studying came hard to them. They were a couple of life's plodders, amiable, gentle and without much fire.

Fifi could see that her brothers were both wis.h.i.+ng they had a good reason to excuse themselves from the tea party. Although she doubted that their mother had confided in them her fears about Dan, the atmosphere she was creating had made these all too obvious.

Fifi felt her brothers liked Dan. They had laughed at many things he'd said during the afternoon, and now and again they'd looked admiringly at him, but they lacked the social skills or the nerve to bypa.s.s their mother's disapproval.

Patty, a born diplomat, had done her best. Although she was usually shy with strangers, mainly because she was aware of being fat and spotty, she'd made a great effort to make Dan feel comfortable. She had done her best to bring the conversation round to subjects that would give him and her brothers common ground. She asked about the houses he was building and his relations.h.i.+p with the architect, and then reminded him that Peter was training in architecture. To Fifi's disappointment Peter didn't seize the opportunity, almost certainly because he realized Dan had far more practical building knowledge than he had. Patty brought up cricket then, and for a while all the men talked animatedly about the sport, but her mother stamped that out by interrupting and beginning to question Dan again about where he lived.

Fifi could remember how when she was about seven, her mother took her to task for embarra.s.sing another child she met in the park by commenting on the holes in the bottom of her shoes. Her mother had explained that the child's parents were probably very poor, and she should always be tactful and kinder to people less fortunate than herself.

What a hypocrite her mother had turned out to be! She'd always claimed she would like to see an end to the cla.s.s system, declaring that bright children from poor homes should be given the same opportunities as the children of the wealthy. Yet now her daughter had taken up with a working-cla.s.s man, all that tact and kindness had vanished.

Just from the way her mother had looked at Dan when he arrived today, Fifi had known he was never going to be able to win her round. She took in his s.h.i.+ny winkle-picker shoes and his pinstriped suit with its b.u.m-freezer jacket as if that was all the evidence she needed to know he was a bad lot.

As it was raining there was little opportunity for Dan to show off his interest in and knowledge of plants, though he tried hard enough. He stood at the French windows in the sitting room and admired the magnolia tree which was in full bloom.

If her mother was surprised he could actually name it, she didn't show it, and almost immediately launched into an inquisition about his lodgings.

'Is it a guest house?' she asked.

'The landlady certainly doesn't treat us like guests,' Dan replied with one of his wide grins. 'More like lepers.'

Clara smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, and Fifi could see she was getting agitated. 'What I meant was, does she provide breakfast and perhaps an evening meal?'

'No, all we get is the room, and what she calls "servicing" it. That only amounts to emptying the waste-paper basket and running a vacuum cleaner over the bits of the carpet that show.'

Clara wanted to know how Dan got his clothes washed and where he cooked meals. When he said he went to the launderette further up the road, and mostly ate in cafes, she launched into a lecture about the value of good nutrition and how he should learn to cook for himself.

'I can cook quite well,' Dan said. 'We were taught at the children's home. But I can't really be bothered after working all day.'

Fifi was relieved that Dan didn't reveal that the shared kitchen was overrun with mice, so dirty he could barely bring himself to make a cup of tea in there, and that the other lodgers would help themselves to any food he bought. Yet it was a shame that his explanation suggested he was bone idle.

From then on it seemed to Fifi that her mother was deliberately trying to make Dan feel gauche and ignorant. She brought up subjects as diverse as the invasion of Cuba, the building of the Berlin Wall, Ban the Bomb marches and Rudolf Nureyev's defection to the West.

Fifi expected that, like her, Dan wouldn't know enough about any of these things to discuss them, and her mother would be successful in making him look like a fool. But he did know something about each topic, enough at least to toss the ball into her father's court and get him to give his views.

He couldn't resist winding her mother up a little on the subject of Rudolf Nureyev, though. 'It would have been handy if he'd been a nuclear scientist or something useful, but a man who struts around the stage in tights showing off his carrot and onions doesn't seem much of a coup to me,' he said.

The boys laughed, Patty giggled, and even her father smiled. But her mother looked deeply offended and said snootily that she loved ballet and Rudolf was the greatest dancer of all time.

'Maybe, but I bet less than one per cent of the population ever go to the ballet, so why should he get to stay here? He probably lived like a king in Russia anyway.'

Fifi had noticed before that whenever Dan felt unsure of himself, he resorted to jokey remarks. To workmates or acquaintances in the pub this created the impression of a genial, easy-going person, but to articulate, serious-minded people like her parents, meeting him for the first time, it was more likely to come across as discourtesy.

By the time they sat down to tea, Fifi noticed that two red blotches had sprung up on her mother's cheeks, a sure sign she was boiling up to a rage. Fifi had no idea how to defuse the situation, for Dan was doing his best to be open, friendly and appreciative.

'Another piece of cake, Dan?' Clara asked towards the end of tea. She had pushed the boat out, showing off with home-cooked ham and salad, scones, cakes and trifle, and now she had the silver cake knife poised above the remains of the iced chocolate cake.

'I'd like to relieve you of it, but I haven't got any more room,' Dan said.

Fifi groaned inwardly. She knew her mother wouldn't take that in the spirit in which it was intended. Sure enough, she finally snapped.

'It's one of my best recipes, made with four eggs,' she said indignantly, her voice rising. 'I certainly don't need "relieving" of it, young man.'

'He wasn't being rude about your cake,'Patty said quickly. 'He meant he loved it, but he hadn't got room for any more. Isn't that right, Dan?'

'Yes, of course. I'm sorry if it came out all wrong, Mrs Brown,' Dan said apologetically.

'Every single thing you say comes out all wrong,' she snarled back at him. 'I've never met such an ignorant, c.o.c.ky person as you.'

For a second there was complete silence in the dining room. Patty, Peter and Robin all stared at their mother in shock. Even their father looked stunned.

Fifi leaped to her feet so quickly she made all the china on the table rattle. 'And you are the rudest person I've ever met,' she spat at her mother. 'Come on, Dan, we'll go now.'

Dan didn't leap up; he rose from his chair calmly and slowly, wiping his lips on the napkin and placing it back on the table. His wide smile was gone and he looked devastated. 'If I seem ignorant and c.o.c.ky, then I'm sorry,' he said, his voice a little shaky. 'But you'd decided I wasn't good enough for Fifi before you even met me, hadn't you?'

Dan only let Fifi go as far as the bus stop with him. There he kissed her goodbye and said she was to go home, despite her protestations. He knew that if she stayed out with him for the evening, it would only be more difficult for her when she returned. He also needed to be alone.

After waving goodbye to Fifi as the bus pulled away, he climbed up the stairs, got his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one up. He felt sick with disappointment that the tea party had gone so badly wrong.

He hadn't expected the Browns to be overly welcoming. Fifi had said enough about her mother to give him the idea that she was something of a sn.o.b. He had been very aware of his rough accent, terrified that he'd slip up and lick his knife, or drop the dainty china tea cup. He knew he'd put Mrs Brown's back up when he joked about that ballet dancer, but he hadn't for one moment expected such vicious spite. He drew deeply on his cigarette and wondered what he should do.

He'd never been that struck on invitations to girlfriends' homes, and if anyone else had been like that to him, he would've said something cutting, then left, letting the girl decide whether it was to be him or her parents she cared about.

But Fifi was different. Right from the day he'd shared her table in that tea shop, he knew she was special. It wasn't just her looks, though he loved her silky blonde hair, those soft brown eyes and her slender yet shapely figure. She was different to other girls; she didn't rabbit on about her job, clothes or old boyfriends and, like him, lived for the moment. He knew perfectly well when she showed him where Gloucester Road was that it wasn't on her way home. She just wanted to make sure he found somewhere to live, and meanwhile get to know him better.

He loved the way she asked stuff like whether he'd got enough blankets on his bed or had had a proper dinner. When he had a bad cough she brought him medicine and told him he must wear a scarf when the wind was cold. She was thoughtful too about his money, never asking for the most expensive thing on the menu or expecting the best seats in the cinema.

Kissing her was like glimpsing heaven, and just the touch of her hand made him feel he'd lie down and die for her. But it was far more than fancying her like crazy. She'd filled all the lonely, empty places inside him; she made him think he could do anything, be anyone he wanted to be. He loved her cla.s.siness, her poise and warmth. But she wasn't tough; she might insist he meant more to her than her parents, but once that mother of hers started to put the screws on, he doubted she'd be able to cope.

It was already difficult enough for them, for they had no place where they could go to be alone together. Snogging in doorways and bus shelters soon lost its appeal, especially when it was cold or wet.

Fifi had made it quite clear that she intended to remain a virgin until she got married, and he respected her for that, even if in the past he'd always got his way with girls. He wanted her desperately; s.e.x was on his mind from first thing in the morning till he went to sleep, but because he loved her, he'd been prepared to wait.

But today he'd seen that her parents would never welcome him as a son-in-law. Fifi might be old enough not to need their consent and perhaps she'd say she didn't care about getting their blessing either. But he wouldn't feel right about that; in a few years' time it might come as a wedge between them.

He was left in a no-win situation. He wanted her for ever, and he supposed too that he really wanted to be part of her family.

Her brothers were okay, a bit dopey and lacking in any sparkle, but they might have improved after a couple of pints. Patty was every bit as sweet as Fifi said; she didn't have any side to her. As for her father, well, Dan had soon worked out how he could win him over, because he wasn't practical; he could've fixed the swaying back-garden fences for him, mended the roof on their summer house, and rebuilt the front-garden wall which was crumbling. Brainy blokes always appreciated anyone who could do such jobs.

But her mother was a very different kettle of fish. It wasn't just that she wanted Fifi to have a husband out of the top drawer, there was something much more behind her att.i.tude. Dan would lay money on the fact that Clara married Harry Brown because her parents virtually selected him for her. She'd had four children in about six or seven years, probably never even enjoyed s.e.x, and now when she saw her beautiful elder daughter in love she was probably riddled with jealousy.

The funny thing was that he felt for her. Clara had obviously been a very good mother, but now her children were all of an age where they would leave home, perhaps she was getting panicky about what she'd be left with. She was still quite young and very attractive, but if she'd never had any great pa.s.sion, or even much fun, who could really blame her for thinking she'd been cheated?

Twice this afternoon she'd alluded to how difficult Fifi had been when she was little, which suggested Clara had never quite got over it. He'd wanted to ask her about it, but he hadn't quite dared. Fifi seemed to enjoy knowing she'd been such a pain, and that probably made the situation worse. Dan could see there were many issues that needed thras.h.i.+ng out between them, but sadly they were both equally stubborn and so he suspected they would never resolve their differences.

Dan wondered what was going on now. Clara could hardly ban Fifi from seeing him. He didn't think she'd be stupid enough to throw her out either, for she'd know Fifi would run straight to him. So all that was left was to give her the cold shoulder in an attempt to wear her down.

He sighed deeply. As a kid he'd had plenty of that kind of treatment, which was worse than being given a good hiding. And, as he remembered, it worked. In a few weeks Fifi would be putty in her mother's hands.

'It's only a shower. It'll stop soon,' Dan said optimistically. He wasn't that worried by the heavy rain, but he was concerned that Fifi hadn't said a word since they'd taken shelter under a large tree. He was afraid she was about to tell him that she didn't want to see him any more.

The awful tea party was months ago, and there were times when Dan wished he'd stuck to his guns when he had tried to end it a few days later. He had felt then that it would be best for Fifi as her mother wasn't ever going to accept him, and in the long run that would split them up anyway.

But Fifi had been adamant that her parents would come round before long, and that if they didn't she'd leave home anyway. Dan had wanted to believe her on both counts, but it was the end of August now, and they were no further on. Clara Brown hadn't budged an inch, and Fifi hadn't moved out.

As far as Dan was concerned, as long as Fifi loved him and he could still see her, he was content. But as the weeks pa.s.sed he could tell she was growing more and more unhappy, however well she tried to hide it.