Free Splitting by Fay Weldon Page A

color of local apples, and the greengrocer’s wife, with adoring eyes, offered her a bagful free.
    Susan accepted.
    “But Rosamund’s such a gossip,” said Susan. “All that silly stuff about your having an oestrogen implant, when we all know how much Edwin wants a baby. Remember how he wept when I lost mine? You and Edwin were so good to me, I’ll never forget that. You’re like sister and brother to me. But Rosamund—why is she the way she is about me?”
    “I think she believes Roland is really Lambert’s son,” said Lady Rice. “Not Humphrey’s at all.”
    Susan turned pale. The color drained from her face. She looked quite gaunt and nearer forty than thirty. She left the shop. Lady Rice followed.
    “Angelica, you are to tell everyone that’s ridiculous,” said Susan. “It’s obvious just to look at Roland that he’s Humphrey’s. Roland has inherited all Humphrey’s talents and qualities, thank God. Poor Humphrey; he was emotionally crippled, like so many English men of his generation. But that leaves the genes okay, doesn’t it? I never had anything to do with Lambert, though he was always a little bit in love with me, so it wasn’t for want of asking! Men get so obsessional, don’t they! And so full of fantasies. They’ll always claim you’ve been to bed with them when you haven’t; when what’s happened is they’ve tried but you said no. No wonder Rosamund is losing her grip. Of course Lambert’s saying the same thing about you, Angelica, do you know that? What a problem village life can be!”
    And, apparently quite recovered, Susan went on down the village street, basket over arm, strong stride, fair hair shining, exotic yet domestic; with all the confidence of her own goodness and likeability.
    If excited voices clamored within Lady Rice, she did not hear them. She made her deafness her strength.

(12)
Damage
    L ADY RICE CALLED UPON Rosamund. It seemed prudent. “You and Lambert? I never said any such thing,” said Rosamund to Lady Rice. “Susan, or the Great Adulteress of Barley, as some call her, just enjoys stirring up mischief. Roland is indeed in all probability Lambert’s child, but fortunately Lambert has gone right off Susan since she had her moments of passion with Edwin. Don’t look so stricken: I’m not saying for one moment Susan and Edwin did have an affair, just that Lambert, who tends to be paranoid, believes it, so what’s the difference? It suits me that he does believe it.”
    Lambert was back home again with Rosamund. Susan-damage, as Rosamund observed, had so far been restricted to three households, four children—two of hers, two of Natalie’s—and one baby, who never got born. The village had calmed; gossip was stilled. Rosamund was beginning to build up her medical practice again: mostly in the Estate where the humble lived. She had more patients with varicose veins, fewer with emotional problems.
    “By the way, Angelica,” said Rosamund, “I’m pregnant again. Don’t you think it’s time you and Edwin thought of starting a family?”
    A voice sounded tinnily in Her head: “Yes, yes, yes,” but she ignored it.
    “I don’t think so,” said Lady Rice quickly. Lady Rice found herself frightened of change, of pain, of swelling up, of sharing her body with another personality. As well grow a monster as a baby. Lady Rice was a little person, with narrow hips. Edwin was big. If the baby inherited Edwin’s size, how would it get out? These things hadn’t occurred to her before. Maternity, to Lady Rice in her discouraged state, seemed a very bad idea indeed.
    How quickly time passed: lava steamed and sizzled in the volcano’s crater but didn’t quite boil over. Rice Court went on the Heritage brochure as a three-starred family outing. Over the weekends visitors could be counted in thousands. Lady Rice was kept busy. English Heritage took over the day-to-day running of the place, but Edwin liked Lady Rice to keep her hands on the reins, so she did. A