‘You know what’s wrong with you, don’t you?’ Elizabeth said, standing over her, teapot in hand. ‘When did you last have the curse?’
She stared at her mother-in-law. There was a gleam in her eye which looked suspiciously like triumph. ‘I can’t be. George is taking precautions. We agreed…’
‘That doesn’t answer my question.’
She began counting back. What with starting a new job and everything to learn, and the atmosphere at home, she had been too preoccupied to notice she was late. ‘It’s only a week or so over.’
‘Have you been late before?’
‘No, I’m usually as regular as clockwork.’
‘There you are, then. Mistakes can happen in the best regulated families. So-called precautions are far from foolproof.’
She was sick again before she left for work, but she struggled in, though she felt dreadful and must have looked deathly because they sent her home again. But by the time George came in at six o’clock that evening, she was feeling better and decided Elizabeth must be wrong.
As soon as the meal was cleared away, George spread some plans out on the table and began working on them. Barbara went to help Elizabeth wash up.
‘Have you told him about the baby?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘I don’t know there is a baby. It’s much too soon to tell. Just because I was sick…’
‘Go and tell him now. I’ll finish off here.’
It was easier to do as she was told than argue. She put the tea cloth down and went back into the dining room. George was drawing on a large sheet of tracing paper over what appeared to be a street plan. He didn’t look up and she stood at his elbow watching him making slight changes to the lines which appeared through the transparent paper.
‘George, your mother thinks I might be pregnant. I’ve only missed by a week, but I was very sick this morning.’
He put his pencil down and looked up at her, grinning. ‘Wonderful.’
‘But I can’t have a baby here. There’s isn’t room and…’ She couldn’t add that she was sure his mother would take over the child; it would never be entirely hers and George’s while they had to share a home. ‘You said not until we had a home of our own.’
‘And we will.’ He smiled and tapped the papers on the table with his pencil. ‘By the time the baby is born, or very soon afterwards, this will become reality. We will have our own house.’
‘Really?’ She flung her arms round him from behind and put her cheek against his. ‘Then, of course, I’m pleased as punch. That’s if I’m really pregnant.’
‘Go and see the doc. He’ll tell you.’
‘It’s too soon. I’ll go in a week or two.’ She paused. ‘But that’s not a house plan, is it?’
‘No, it’s the ground plan of the new council estate. One hundred and fifty houses and I’ve got the contract to build the lot.’
‘And did you have to…’ She was going to say ‘cheat’ but changed her mind. ‘…oil wheels, to get it?’
‘Of course.’ He didn’t know how it had happened, but Donald Browning’s part in the affair of the flats had become known and he had been asked to leave, which was why he was now on Kennett’s payroll. He would never amount to much but he did know how the wheels of local government turned and he got on well with both suppliers and customers for his apparent ponderous honesty. It was that which had convinced his employers that his lapse from his usual integrity had been due to his wife’s illness. He was not prosecuted and nothing was made public.
‘And the profits will be enough to buy our house?’
‘It won’t cost us a penny.’ He laughed and pulled the plan from under the tracing paper. ‘This is a plan for one hundred and fifty houses and where they are to go on the available land.’ He tapped the tracing paper. ‘This is a plan for one hundred and fifty-one houses on the same land.’
‘I don’t understand. You’re going to build one more than they’ve asked for?’
‘Yes. They’ll never know the difference.’
‘But you can’t do that. They know how many bricks and things you need. They aren’t going to pay out for more.’
‘They won’t have to. It won’t cost them a penny either, that’s the beauty of it.’ He was so obviously pleased with himself, he couldn’t keep his scheme to himself. ‘I’m not the only one who oils wheels, you know. Suppliers of bricks and tiles and timbers are all