all the time, darling. Stop thinking. Just be.’
‘Can I just say one more thing?’
‘If it’s neither critical nor reproachful,’ said Spicer.
‘I wish you’d told me earlier you were going to see a therapist,’ Annette said.
‘I have told you,’ said Spicer.
‘But isn’t it just what Aileen did?’
‘That’s a silly comparison,’ said Spicer. ‘Aileen wanted to end the marriage. I want the opposite for ours. I want to live in peace and tranquillity.’
‘Help me put the nightie on,’ said Annette. ‘Just a little tug at the back. I love your hands, Spicer. I always have.’
‘I love all of you, Annette,’ said Spicer. ‘You’re like the sea; I love to drown in you. But like the seas you have your moods: sometimes you can be dangerous. So I must learn to navigate you. Is that comfortable?’
‘Well, not totally any more,’ said Annette. ‘You are quite heavy on the bump.’
‘Turn on your side, then. Is that better?’
‘Well, yes, but then I can’t see you,’ said Annette. ‘I like to see you: the expression of your face. I like to watch you loving me.’
‘But by liking to see me we have to stay very decorous, very missionary, Annette.’
‘Something’s lost, something’s gained,’ said Annette. ‘I’ll turn on my side. Not too hard, not too violent, please. I wouldn’t want you to shake the baby loose—’
‘Babies are well locked in,’ said Spicer. ‘Nature sees to it. Other women don’t make this fuss. Don’t make me feel guilty or none of this will work.’
‘Sorry, Spicer,’ said Annette. ‘If I bring my knees up—wonderful, wonderful—you’ve always been wonderful like nothing else, no one else.’
‘Then why can’t you be more secure in me?’
‘I am, I am,’ said Annette. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken the way I did to Gilda: I didn’t mean to be disloyal.’
‘You speak far too much to Gilda,’ said Spicer.
‘I’ll try not to in future,’ said Annette.
‘Gilda isn’t a real friend: she just wants someone to gossip about.’
‘I expect so.’
‘The way you go on about me,’ said Spicer, ‘makes me wonder about you. You are sure it is my baby?’
‘Of course I am, Spicer.’
‘Because I have to have you all to myself,’ said Spicer. ‘I couldn’t bear to share you.’
‘Only you, Spicer, only ever you.’
‘Not like Aileen.’
‘Never, never like Aileen,’ said Annette. ‘Spicer, not so rough: Spicer, whatever you like—but you are tearing my best nightdress.’
‘It’s too tight over the bump; why did you wear it? Please don’t talk, it distracts me—turn over, talk into the pillow if you have to—’
‘I don’t want to turn over,’ said Annette.
‘Why not? I love every bit of you, every part of you,’ said Spicer.
‘I want to be able to say that too,’ said Annette. ‘To your face, not to a pillow.’
‘Do as I say,’ said Spicer.
‘Oh very well,’ said Annette.
‘I love you,’ said Spicer into his wife’s ear. ‘So much love must be good for the baby. It couldn’t possibly harm it: that’s what Rhea says. There, I’ve told you. Dr Rhea Marks, my therapist. Annette, I’m coming, I can’t help it, you moved so suddenly—come with me—please—’
‘I am, I am. There.’
‘There. Oh my God. I love you, Annette.’
Spicer brought Annette some orange juice and sat in the blue basket chair by the bed.
‘You were faking, weren’t you,’ said Spicer.
‘I was not,’ said Annette.
‘Yes you were. I can always tell.’
‘I’d quite like to go to sleep now, Spicer,’ said Annette.
‘You never talk when I want to talk,’ said Spicer. ‘You always talk when I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘I expect I’m afflicted in my planets. Ask Dr Rhea Marks. She’ll tell you all about it.’
‘Sulky, sulky!’ said Spicer. ‘Rhea told me it would happen. Spouses feel resentful if an outsider, as they see it, comes into the marriage. But of course it isn’t like
‘Can I just say one more thing?’
‘If it’s neither critical nor reproachful,’ said Spicer.
‘I wish you’d told me earlier you were going to see a therapist,’ Annette said.
‘I have told you,’ said Spicer.
‘But isn’t it just what Aileen did?’
‘That’s a silly comparison,’ said Spicer. ‘Aileen wanted to end the marriage. I want the opposite for ours. I want to live in peace and tranquillity.’
‘Help me put the nightie on,’ said Annette. ‘Just a little tug at the back. I love your hands, Spicer. I always have.’
‘I love all of you, Annette,’ said Spicer. ‘You’re like the sea; I love to drown in you. But like the seas you have your moods: sometimes you can be dangerous. So I must learn to navigate you. Is that comfortable?’
‘Well, not totally any more,’ said Annette. ‘You are quite heavy on the bump.’
‘Turn on your side, then. Is that better?’
‘Well, yes, but then I can’t see you,’ said Annette. ‘I like to see you: the expression of your face. I like to watch you loving me.’
‘But by liking to see me we have to stay very decorous, very missionary, Annette.’
‘Something’s lost, something’s gained,’ said Annette. ‘I’ll turn on my side. Not too hard, not too violent, please. I wouldn’t want you to shake the baby loose—’
‘Babies are well locked in,’ said Spicer. ‘Nature sees to it. Other women don’t make this fuss. Don’t make me feel guilty or none of this will work.’
‘Sorry, Spicer,’ said Annette. ‘If I bring my knees up—wonderful, wonderful—you’ve always been wonderful like nothing else, no one else.’
‘Then why can’t you be more secure in me?’
‘I am, I am,’ said Annette. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken the way I did to Gilda: I didn’t mean to be disloyal.’
‘You speak far too much to Gilda,’ said Spicer.
‘I’ll try not to in future,’ said Annette.
‘Gilda isn’t a real friend: she just wants someone to gossip about.’
‘I expect so.’
‘The way you go on about me,’ said Spicer, ‘makes me wonder about you. You are sure it is my baby?’
‘Of course I am, Spicer.’
‘Because I have to have you all to myself,’ said Spicer. ‘I couldn’t bear to share you.’
‘Only you, Spicer, only ever you.’
‘Not like Aileen.’
‘Never, never like Aileen,’ said Annette. ‘Spicer, not so rough: Spicer, whatever you like—but you are tearing my best nightdress.’
‘It’s too tight over the bump; why did you wear it? Please don’t talk, it distracts me—turn over, talk into the pillow if you have to—’
‘I don’t want to turn over,’ said Annette.
‘Why not? I love every bit of you, every part of you,’ said Spicer.
‘I want to be able to say that too,’ said Annette. ‘To your face, not to a pillow.’
‘Do as I say,’ said Spicer.
‘Oh very well,’ said Annette.
‘I love you,’ said Spicer into his wife’s ear. ‘So much love must be good for the baby. It couldn’t possibly harm it: that’s what Rhea says. There, I’ve told you. Dr Rhea Marks, my therapist. Annette, I’m coming, I can’t help it, you moved so suddenly—come with me—please—’
‘I am, I am. There.’
‘There. Oh my God. I love you, Annette.’
Spicer brought Annette some orange juice and sat in the blue basket chair by the bed.
‘You were faking, weren’t you,’ said Spicer.
‘I was not,’ said Annette.
‘Yes you were. I can always tell.’
‘I’d quite like to go to sleep now, Spicer,’ said Annette.
‘You never talk when I want to talk,’ said Spicer. ‘You always talk when I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘I expect I’m afflicted in my planets. Ask Dr Rhea Marks. She’ll tell you all about it.’
‘Sulky, sulky!’ said Spicer. ‘Rhea told me it would happen. Spouses feel resentful if an outsider, as they see it, comes into the marriage. But of course it isn’t like
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