Her Lover (81 page)

he asked for some photos of me when I was little I rushed off like some silly serving-girl I brought him my album
he loved the photo of me when I was twelve knee-socks bare legs and ringlets he thought Daddy was very handsome said he looked scrupulous thoughtful I explained that the ring on my little finger with the Auble arms was Daddy's signet-ring which I had cut down to fit me he kissed the signet-ring Daddy it was as if he was asking your permission to love me that grey-flannel suit of his wonderfully cut he's the sort clothes always look well on doesn't wear his jackets waisted black tie with white polka dots women's dressmakers never get suits right they're always a bit approximate always overemphasize the waist I'll be firm about my next suit I'll say no nipping in at the waist got that my man darling I'm not afraid of you my man last night in bed I called him a cretin but you see darling you do bully me and it's rather nice to call you names back when I was little I used to stand outside toyshops and make magic signs I thought that perhaps when I got home the dollies I'd seen in the window would be there waiting for me no more Hungarian countesses no more Vansteads good riddance I wanted to tell him about my magic signs the day he went away but he came close and I couldn't my mouth was otherwise engaged so how could I say anything I get too passionate at night when I'm with him I'm afraid he'll think I'm awful call me medical names when he's being very attentive that is to say when he kisses my hand instead of hum you know what anyway when he's being attentive my conscious mind is ever so proud but my unconscious is another matter now mind you make jolly sure that his countess stays put in Hungary if we've adopted a rather formal way of speaking to each other most of the time it's really to heighten our appreciation of the more intimate er less formal moments sometimes when he looks at me the ends of both smosob get so hard that it's embarrassing they must show through my dress I worry in case they'll poke right through the material why am I becoming so dreadfully feminine I'd rather like to be a man but only in one department the rest I'd keep feminine hips breasts in fact the combination would be the perfect human being don't be silly everything is fine as it is don't change a thing let a man be a man and a woman a woman what sickens me is that I am so humble it started with my Russian salaaming it set the tone for our relationship yes it sickens me but I like it too it's funny I act like a woman in love when I'm with him oh yes I put it on and yet it's genuine too he is my god then next moment he's a happy little boy proudly showing me his new shaving-brush and I come over all maternal and turn into jelly oh the night before he went away oh when a good woman is in love a man can twist her round his little finger we women don't have any real moral sense at all if he wanted me to do something that's wrong though I can't think of an example let's just say something really infernal I just know that I'd do it remember to put out the fruit make it peaches have a bite of one just before he comes essential preparation for snorkelling and when he's here in intervals between snorkelling find way of taking another bite of peach as if your mind's elsewhere make out it's some kind of little female caprice all casual and delightful and pert the real point being to keep breath sweet and desirable and scents of garden indoors on second thoughts forget the peach peaches are too complicated it would have to be peeled first and that would make my fingers sticky and I'd make a mess and I'd drop bits and he'd notice and I'd lose face make it a grape now and then a grape would be much more discreet I could just pop one into my mouth on the sly without his seeing hello six twenty-five
Cost fan tutte
gets tiresome when all those pretty young men and pretty young ladies start warbling quartets when I give Mariette her wages she always sort of bubbles in that way she has she comes over all friendly perks up no end not that she's close-fisted but for her holding her hand out for money is an absorbing ritual a fascinating ceremonial the way Mariette went on at the decorators was basically flirty a typical case of the glad eye the sort of thing working-class women do it always starts with that's men for you he must have liked it when I did my Romanian-peasant-girl-with-dangling-plaits number when you serve the tea don't put out biscuits because there's a reason oh what the I'll say it out straight here goes it's because biscuits leave might leave soggy little bits in my mouth and later on during snorkelling operations he'll find them and it would be a total fiasco I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye after that I've got a very literal mind but I can't help it and yet I am his completely his nun of love O darling the other day I called round to see Penelope Kanakis just so I could talk about you but to avoid arousing suspicion I said awful things about you O darling I said arrogant obnoxious heartless and
Penelope said she quite agreed the bitch I could have throttled her I left after a few minutes of very frosty chat and went on to Sigismonde de Heller's with the same thought in my mind I so needed to talk about you I also said that you're not as good-looking as people say Sigismonde objected violently she said all sorts of marvellous things about you clearly she's a person who improves with knowing just a little more hot water please thanks now darling I want to tell you how I kept you by me last night in a dark corner of the church how both our hearts swelled on hearing the joy of the fugue and we bowed our heads together when the grave-toned chorale growled and then we went out into the ill-lit square and we walked slow-stepped and you spoke of the organ and of God and I listened and I loved you on the wireless the minister said Thy kingdom come and I said Amen but I was thinking of your return do you remember that evening in your suite with the crowd of people and I was supposed to be just another guest it was wonderful to be making polite conversation like two civilized strangers and know that soon we'd be naked together but our eyes spoke of love and I blew you a kiss without anyone else being any the wiser wonderful to feel the caress of your hand when you offered me a cigarette we were exalted and raised above the crowd of conjugal mortals wonderful to take my leave of you and know that I would soon return when the others had gone oh hold me close I am yours in all purity with every fibre of my being you're a silly woman pull yourself together Debussy is ghasdy so wishy-washy that old record of horrendous Yvette Guilbert she rolls her r's pronounces each word so carefully by that I mean she gives each word a silly spiritual charge if I ever get a cold I won't tell him that way I won't lose face I'll phone and say I want to be alone no don't phone write so he won't hear my voice all bunged up and nasal I'm sorry but I need to be alone that way he'll be miserable and he'll love me more so the unfortunate fact that I've caught cold and won't be seeing him will be put to good purpose another useful dodge when I'm supposed to go round to see him at the Ritz would be to ring up at the last moment and say I can't come or alternatively turn up late and to ensure I do turn up late have another bath just before leaving oh that'll make him really miserable do you remember the day I came to one of the L of N committees to see you doing your stuff you were ever so impressive jabbering away in English do you remember I sent you a note saying I love you and you read it with a face like stone and I was in seventh heaven watching you with a face like stone but afterwards you chatted pleasantly to Sir John hello said I to myself he can be very pleasant hello said I to myself he's got a boss and that's him and then when you'd finished speaking everyone clapped I whispered he's my man and his stony face lights up only for me and I suddenly had this crazy urge to go up to him in front of all the delegates and ask him to give me a fruity kiss I mean to say all those fully clothed serious people must get up to all sorts at night yes it's true when he's not with me I love him even more because when he's there he cramps my style and I can't love him properly besides things quickly turn all steamy when he's there and then I forget all about him I'm freezing a drop more hot water please thanks that's enough when I'm about to write him a letter I practise first before getting down to it in earnest I try different sizes and styles of writing then I place a blotter under my right hand to keep the paper clean and with my left I support one luscious breast I lean over the opening of my dress and breathe in the smell of my nakedness which rises with my body heat don't tell him that because unclean words should never pass a woman's lips especially during the day darling I want you to know that though I might seem passionately interested in what goes on between the sheets all that sort of thing comes a poor second in my book no don't tell him that he might be offended darling about that weekend we spent together at Ouchy in the Hotel Beau Rivage you mustn't forget that I am my aunt's niece I wasn't used to hotels with quite so many stars do you remember this is the life for me I said strutting up and down proudly oh yes it would be wonderful to live with him in a hotel and never see anyone else that day I spotted him walking down the street I crossed to the opposite pavement because I wasn't sure if I was perfect enough to be seen oh that night at Ouchy as I lay in bed waiting while he took his bath I groaned I begged him to come quickly I felt oddly disturbed by this image I had of a woman waiting in a shameless state of nature waiting for the male in love with her own body which she contemplated as she waited oh when he takes me I say your servant your woman and I cry because I'm happy hollow-eyed inspired oh darling the day you came on horseback just as you were about to go I clung to your stirrup like the wife of the knight setting off for the crusades oh darling do you remember once it was three in the morning we'd just separated you'd just got back to the Ritz I phoned to ask if you would return to me and you came back so eagerly he must see how well I can ride too that'll be one in the eye for him you may do what you want with me take a horsewhip to my back or even lower down but you mustn't leave any permanent marks I love it when he looks at me when I'm naked sometimes when I'm by myself I like imagining that he's taking me by force or that I'm chained up and he's this male on the rampage I can't get away from him and he does the most dreadful things to me I don't see any objection to a spot of male savagery it suits me down to the ground why are you saying such awful things I despise you no don't despise me because I don't mean it it's just thoughts pure as the driven snow that's me I like singing hymns I thirst for your nearness holy lord of my faith in my great weakness what would I do without you every day every hour come to me Sol and stay oh stay by me and in the morning at the Beau Rivage after shaving he came and we had breakfast together it was wonderful there was a Uttle blob of shaving-cream behind his ear which made me want to cry and then I drew his dressing-gown aside smooth tanned chest narrow hips and oh those clear greeny-blue eyes and also wakey-wakey it'll be seven o'clock soon look alive get out of bath look sharp dry yourself.

CHAPTER 71

'Best foot forward, try on dresses in sitting-room!'

Wearing bath-wrap and raffia sandals, she pitched all eight of Volkmaar's boxes down the stairs, helping them on their way with her foot because it was seven twenty-five and his train had already got in and in just a few minutes from now he'd be at the Ritz. But when she reached the foot of the stairs she told herself that it was quite absurd to be worrying her head about trying on dresses at the last moment when she had the stunning white linen number which wasn't creased or grubby. So the ducky dress it would be, and she could try on the others tomorrow, when she'd have plenty of time, her mind was always clearer in the morning.

'All right with you, darling girl? It's all right by me. But listen, should I phone him at his hotel after all, just a quick ring, to hear his voice? Oh please, do let me phone! No, darling, be sensible, I've already told you: a phone call would be like eating before a meal, a foretaste which would take the edge off seeing him again, and seeing him again must be a magic moment. So be patient, hold firm, and take Volkmaar's rubbish back to your room.'

Balancing four boxes on her head, she mounted the stairs, telling herself that she was a slave-girl in ancient Egypt carrying stone blocks for the great pyramid. When she reached the first floor she removed both the wrap and the sandals to add authentic local colour and so that she was a genuine naked Nubian slave-girl whose slinky walk quickened the blood of the Pharaoh, who, encountered by chance on the landing, promptly asked her to be his fair Pharaohess and Queen of Upper and Lower Egypt. She thanked him and said she'd think about it and would give him an answer later, after she'd had another bath, with fresh water, that's right dear, an odourless bath, because all the bath salts she'd just used smelled much too strong.

In her room, she put down the boxes and reached eagerly for her hand-mirror to check that all was well. All was well. She kissed her hand, smiled at the Pharaoh, who had followed her in, for he was anxious to know what her reply would be. She said that, having given the matter considerable thought, she was unable to agree to his request and went back downstairs, as Nubian as ever, to fetch the remaining boxes. On reflection, she really ought to have explained to Rameses the Bloated that she had given her heart to Joseph, a son of Israel and Prime Minister of Egypt. She'd tell him when she got upstairs.

Standing at the window, lulled by the pleasant jolting and gratified by the strenuous efforts made on his behalf by the train which was carrying him back to the good life at Geneva, Adrien Deume stared passively at the fleeing green meadows, the rapidly retreating cornfields sucked up into the tornado which also made the trees keel over, and the telegraph poles which were joined by wires that drew the eye up and suddenly down. He lowered the window, through which damp, green smells immediately blew in, then a succession of distance-markers flashed past and a forest scuttled away bearing its secrets with it and a river glinted then promptly vanished, another train passed in the opposite direction, and he felt the heat of the engine as it hurtled by, wild, angry, full of breathy desire, leaving in its wake the staccato lights of the coaches, and then Adrien's train, stung to the quick, bolted as four gleaming rails shot away to the right. Must be doing a hundred and twenty kilometres an hour, he thought. Whereupon, determined to jot down an impression for his novel while it was still fresh in his mind, he took out his loose-leaf notebook and gold propelling-pencil. After staring for some time at the endlessly absconding countryside with eyes half closed to increase observational efficiency, he wrote down that the train was rattling along at breakneck speed and shut his handsome notebook.