Charles deigned not to answer this, and seating himself in front of the television set, said: ‘Is there anything exciting on this evening?’
‘There’s that detective series you enjoy,’ remarked Dallas, feeling strangely restless. ‘Charles! Why don’t we go to the pictures, for a change?’
Charles glanced round frowning. ‘We never go out on Thursday evenings,’ he exclaimed, aggrieved.
‘Oh, all right, all right!’ Dallas sank down on to the couch beside him. ‘Have you had a busy day?’
Charles was an accountant, with a firm here in the city.
‘So-so,’ he answered absently. ‘Oh, look, Dallas. The programme is just starting!’
Dallas nodded, and drew deeply on her cigarette. Whether it was the continued arguments with Jane, or whether something inside her was beginning to rebel she didn’t know, but quite suddenly she could see their lives going on in the same way for years to come, and it was quite frightening. Was this all it was about? If only Charles wasn’t such a stick-in-the-mud. She had always excused him on account of his age, but after all, thirty-seven wasn’t so old. Lots of men didn’t become so set in their ways at that age. It could only be the influence of his mother, and for the first time she wondered if they were doing the right thing, going to live with her after their marriage. It was all very well, and Dallas knew that old Mrs. Jennings was the kind of person who required someone to live with her, but she could get a companion, and they could buy a new house, in one of the new suburban developments, and then they would really have something worth saving for.
‘Charles,’ she said tentatively, ‘I don’t think living with your mother after we’re married is such a good idea after all.’
Charles paid little attention to her. He was engrossed with the television play. Dallas nudged him. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘What? Oh no, what was that? Can’t it wait until after this is over?’
Dallas stiffened. ‘No, it can’t. I … I don’t want to live with your mother after we’re married.’
Charles stared at her, aghast. ‘What?’ he said again. ‘Why?’
Dallas swallowed hard. ‘Because you’re getting too like her. You’re old before your time. Good heavens, Charles, you’re only thirty-seven, but you act sometimes twenty years older.’
Charles’s face was bright red now, and Dallas felt awful. But it had to be said.
‘Dallas, have you taken leave of your senses?’ He stared at her. ‘The house at Maidenhead is far too big for just Mother alone. Besides, it would be a waste of money buying another house.’
Dallas stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Why? Because you can’t afford it?’
Charles twisted his hands together. ‘I can afford another house, Dallas. But I have no intention of wasting money for no reason.’
Dallas shrugged. ‘All right, then. What if I tell you that those are my conditions for our marriage?’
Charles’s mouth dropped open, and then he hastily closed it. ‘You can’t be serious, Dallas. Have you been drinking by any chance?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘This isn’t at all like you.’
‘How do you know what I’m like? You never bother to find out. You merely sit staring at my television all evening, then eat your supper and go.’
‘Dallas!’
‘Well, it’s true. I must have been sitting with my eyes closed before, but they’re open now. It’s no good, Charles. We’re young. We deserve a bit of freedom, of time to be alone together, and if we’re living with your mother she’ll always be around, wanting you to help her into bed, or into the bath, or into her clothes! It’s no good. We need a home of our own. I’m quite willing to continue working until such time as we have everything we need.’
‘After our marriage, you will not work,’ said Charles firmly. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ His tone changed. ‘Dallas, darling Dallas, be reasonable. The house at Maidenhead is so big. If you like we needn’t even live with Mother. We could have the house equally divided into two flats.’
Dallas hesitated. ‘I don’t know,’ she began, wondering whether she was being unreasonable, and all because of Jane!
‘Think about it, then,’ said Charles, looking hopefully at her. ‘It would break Mother’s heart if she thought she was causing trouble between us.’
Dallas wondered if this were true. Mrs. Jennings was too closely involved with her son to allow him to leave her very easily.
‘All right,’ she said now, and Charles leaned forward and switched off the television, looking round gently at her.
‘Come here,’ he said softly, drawing her towards him, and she allowed him to pull her into his arms and put his soft mouth against hers.
* * *
Much later in the evening Dallas was worried again, and she could tell from Charles’s expression that she was annoying him.
‘For goodness’ sake, Dallas,’ he said. ‘It’s eleven-fifteen, that’s all. Jane will be home very shortly!’
‘But, Charles,’ she began awkwardly, ‘can’t you try and understand? Paris Stavros isn’t the kind of boy to be content with dating Jane for nothing. Everyone can see he only dates her for kicks. What if she allows him to … well …’
Charles lifted his jacket from the back of the couch, and shook his head. ‘If Jane gets herself into trouble, she’ll have to get herself out of it,’ he replied coldly.
Dallas stared at him disbelievingly. ‘Don’t be so callous,’ she cried. ‘Jane is only a baby!’
‘Well, don’t expect me to mother her when she comes to live with us,’ remarked Charles. ‘She’ll soon be shown the door if she misbehaves in Maidenhead. There are too many people there who know me—–’
‘What!’ Dallas put her hands on her hips. ‘What have you got to do with it? Surely you’re not going to tell me that your reputation stands in any danger of being smirched!’
‘Don’t get het-up.’ Charles decided to take a different line. ‘All right, Dallas, all right. I’ll have a word with her when she comes.’
‘No, don’t do that,’ exclaimed Dallas, shaking her head. ‘You’re only likely to antagonise her into further trouble. I can deal with her, or at least, I’ll try.’
Charles put an arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry if I seem unfeeling, but you seem to have all the responsibilities and it’s not fair.’
‘I am the eldest,’ Dallas answered.
Charles was buttoning his overcoat against the cold night air when Jane breezed into the flat, shedding her suede coat and knee-length boots in the hallway.
‘Hello, you two,’ she called. She usually attempted to be friendly towards Charles, Dallas had to concede.
Charles thrust his hands deeply into his overcoat pockets.
‘Do you know you’ve had your sister half out of her mind with worry?’ he asked, in a low angry voice.
Jane rubbed her nose and looked at Dallas. ‘Oh, really? I’m sorry, Dallas. You know how time flies when you’re having a good time!’
Charles grunted, and Dallas said: ‘Charles!’ warningly, but he went on: ‘No, we don’t. We’ve been waiting for your arrival since ten-thirty. I presume that’s a reasonable time to expect a seventeen-year-old home.’
Jane shrugged, her face flushed. ‘Can’t Dallas catechise me herself?’ she asked cheekily, resenting his tone.
Charles