Free Fair Do's by David Nobbs Page B

clear he had been going to say something tactless.
    â€˜When I was a down-trodden, neurotic housewife, that within two years I’d sweep onto the council by five votes after four recounts?’
    â€˜Well, not exactly, no, but …’
    â€˜Who would have?’
    â€˜Precisely.’
    The pram slipped smoothly towards the abbey over a more even stretch of path.
    â€˜A small majority,’ continued Rita, ‘but a vital moment in our town’s history.’
    â€˜What?’ Liz bit her tongue. She had meant to show no interest whatever in Rita’s political career.
    â€˜It changes the balance of the council. This town is now Labour controlled. Exciting, isn’t it?’
    Rita glanced at their faces, looking for the excitement which she knew she wouldn’t see. Neville tried not to look too appalled. Liz didn’t try.
    â€˜I hope you don’t intend to talk politics today, Rita,’ she said as they rounded the heavily buttressed South West corner of the great building. ‘I hardly think it’s the time. Have you heard from Gerry? Did he enjoy his honeymoon on his own?’
    â€˜Liz!’ Neville stopped the pram abruptly. Josceleyn whimpered.
    â€˜Oh, I don’t think these things should be swept underthe carpet, Neville, or they’ll hang over us forever,’ said Liz airily.
    â€˜You put your carpets on the ceiling, do you?’ said Rita.
    â€˜You know what I mean,’ said Liz. ‘I mention it purely in order to exorcise it, not to be nasty.’
    â€˜I choose to believe you. And you’re right.’ Rita gave Liz a smile that was superficially innocent of malice. ‘No skeletons in cupboards. No carpets hanging over us. I understand that he had quite a good … God, Ted!’
    Ted Simcock, former owner of the Jupiter Foundry, soon to be manager of Chez Edouard, smiled at them rather awkwardly. He was wearing a somewhat flash suit which he believed befitted his new status as a restaurateur.
    â€˜Hello,’ he said, and he only just failed to sound at ease.
    â€˜Have you invited him?’ said Rita under her breath.
    Liz shook her head.
    â€˜Ted! Really!’ said Rita.
    â€˜Well, I … er … incidentally, congratulations, Councillor.’
    â€˜Thank you very much.’ Again, Rita couldn’t help being slightly coy.
    â€˜Who’d have thought …?’
    â€˜Quite. But really, Ted! Turning up today!’
    Liz leant across the pram, ostensibly to pull Josceleyn’s coverlet up over his neck, but actually to hiss, ‘Pretty tactless, Ted, even for you.’
    Ted leant forward, ostensibly to have a close look at his son, but actually to hiss back, ‘You once said you liked me because I was tactless and uncouth.’
    â€˜I hardly think we need mention that,’ hissed Liz.
    Ted gave the three of them what he hoped was a proud, dignified look. ‘I think I of all people have the right to be here,’ he said. He realised that there were people within earshot, and added, out of the side of his mouth, ‘The baby is mine.’
    â€˜No, no, Ted. No, no,’ said Neville. ‘You’re his father. He isn’t yours. He isn’t anybody’s. He’s himself. Circumstances have meant that it’s my duty … and my great privilege … to look after him till he’s old enough to look after himself.’
    They were stunned. In the town, four young men roared out of the car-park of the Coach and Mallet in a souped-up Escortwith a faulty exhaust, and the landlord’s caged-up Rottweilers, sensing their aggression, barked excitedly.
    â€˜Well said, Neville,’ said Liz at last.
    â€˜Yes. Marvellous,’ said Rita.
    â€˜I wish you didn’t sound so surprised,’ grumbled Neville.
    â€˜I care about the boy,’ said Ted, resuming his self-justification as if Neville hadn’t spoken. ‘I’d like to witness the service at least.