The Scandalous Life of Sasha Torte

by Lesley Truffle

  Adam’s face was rigid. ‘Listen, I was only trying to give her some timely advice. We both know Clare’s physician is a fraud. Those patented vitality tonics she guzzles are nothing more than opium mixed with alcohol.’

  I hesitated at the spyhole. Seeing them together made me comprehend the depth of animosity between them. I decided to stay out of it.

  Roger was on his feet glaring at his brother. Clearly there was no love lost between them.

  ‘So tell me, Adam, what do you think Clare should be doing? Sipping tea with the Methodist Ladies Sewing Circle? Or knitting up baby booties for the Unwed Mothers Charity Organisation?’

  ‘Christ, I don’t know. Her arts philanthropy – as we call her habit of fucking the lodgers – doesn’t keep her busy enough. Why don’t you create a role for her in the family business?’

  ‘Bugger off. I don’t have time to concern myself with domestic matters.’

  ‘No doubt, given the latest shipment of Irish doxies. You must be flat out keeping up. So to speak.’

  ‘Lay off, Adam. Why are you deliberately trying to provoke me?’

  Adam shrugged. He leant against the counter and toyed with a cake knife. ‘I just saw Angelo Floros staggering down Main Street. Poor sod, Clare must be eating him alive. She needs to dissipate her energies elsewhere. Why not suggest her taking a trip to Europe? Caesar and I are going to expand the company into luxury cruise ships. She could research our competitors. And leave poor Angelo behind in Wolfftown to recuperate.’

  Roger mockingly recited, ‘The owl and the pussycat went to sea, in a beautiful pea green boat, they took some honey and plenty of money, wrapped up in a five pound note.’

  Adam feigned nonchalance but I could tell he was repressing his anger. ‘Don’t mock. The sea is known for its healing powers.’

  ‘No doubt, but it also sends intellectual types such as yourself around the bend. You think too much Adam. Did you know there’s a rumour going round the Sailors Return that you’ve been forcing your rude charms upon Miss Torte?’

  ‘Rape and pillage are your forte, not mine, Roger. And this is the only warning I’m going to give you, my boyo – there will be no more personal remarks about my future wife and mother of my children.’

  I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. Maggie gleefully prodded me in the ribs.

  Roger sat down with a thump and put his boots up on the tea table. ‘Sasha wouldn’t marry a bloke like you. A woman of her charm, beauty and intelligence throwing her lot in with yours? You who publicly fraternise with whores? Ha.’

  Adam kicked Roger’s feet off the table. ‘Get the fuck out of Sasha’s shop, before I squeeze what’s left of your brain out through your eyeballs.’

  Roger leapt up and grabbed a large cake knife off the counter. He brandished the knife at his brother and Adam’s face darkened. ‘Drop the fucking knife before I hack off your balls.’

  Adam reached into his boot and whipped out his stiletto blade just as the recently widowed Lady Viola Balcombe slipped in the front door. The brothers failed to notice her as their backs were turned. I was stunned and delighted but my God, what a time she’d picked to drop in. I had to do something before she fled.

  I moved purposefully towards the kitchen door but Maggie jumped in front of me. ‘Sasha, don’t! You’ll just make things worse. I’ve got six brothers and this is how they behave. Bloody idiots. It’s all bluff and bullshit. Just let them Dashers sort it out.’

  ‘All right but please run down to the market and bring back Snuff and Charlie. I don’t trust Roger. He’s in a particularly ugly mood and I don’t want him scaring off Viola. This is the first time I’ve seen her in ages!’

  Maggie set off through the back door at a cracking pace and I rushed back to the spyhole. Viola was still in the shop. She seemed too stunned to move.

  Adam now had Roger firmly pinned to the rear counter. He was lightly running his stiletto knife across his brother’s throat, drawing a thin necklace of blood. Roger probably didn’t dare resist in case the blade slipped.

  Adam only noticed Viola when she staggered backwards and collapsed in what appeared to be a dead faint. I thought it was staged. She slid down gracefully, her fall cushioned by the thickness of her cumbersome woollen skirts.

  The brothers turned in unison as Viola hit the marble floor. Her voluminous white pantaloons were clearly visible and I was appalled to see frumpy grey woollen stockings covering her long shapely legs. Under Lily’s guidance Viola had developed a passion for sensual undergarments and silk stockings. What the hell had been going on in Balcombe’s household? In my experience when a young woman of expensive tastes and unlimited means, loses all interest in her appearance, she is likely to be suffering from melancholy.

  But despite her matronly attire Viola still had the brothers’ complete attention. Sibling rivalry had been upstaged and Adam had conquered his anger. She’s a clever one, my Viola.

  Adam yanked Roger to his feet. ‘I’ve given you a bit of a scratch but it’s only a flesh wound.’

  This was something of an understatement as Roger’s blood was drenching his white shirt. ‘You’ve picked the wrong fucking day to antagonise me, Adam. My brain’s still bruised from last night’s drinking session.’

  Roger seemed remarkably unconcerned as he used a linen napkin to stem the blood flow. When he cuffed Adam over the head, his brother actually laughed. I was stunned. What had happened to their professed animosity? Maggie had been right. Their overt antagonism was nothing more than a show of bravado.

  They sauntered over to inspect Viola. Adam bent over her and examined her carefully. He grinned up at Roger. ‘What do we have here, eh? It’s the secretary of the Temperance League. Clearly a restorative brandy is out of the question. But do you think Lady Balcombe might appreciate some seaman’s resuscitation?’

  Adam’s tone was bantering but I noticed he was holding his fingers under Viola’s nose, presumably to ascertain if she was still breathing. Roger paid scant attention as he was busily lighting a Turkish cigarette. ‘Is she foxing or out cold?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It could just be that her corset is restricting her breath.’ Adam checked her pulse. ‘Do you remember when the vicar’s daughter was the most wanton girl in Wolfftown?’

  ‘Bollocks. Viola fell in love with Christ when she was still in the crib. She bailed me up in Main Street yesterday and gave me a public ear bashing about an impoverished unwed mother. She even had the audacity to suggest I was responsible for the trollop’s condition.’

  Adam sighed. ‘I happen to know you are responsible. Surely you’re going to do the right thing and look after her financially. It’s one of Pinkerton’s daughters isn’t it?’

  Roger said nothing and carefully examined the tip of his cigarette.

  ‘You disgust me, Roger. You’d better sort the matter quickly in her favour or you’ll have me to answer to.’

  ‘All right, Adam! But get off my back before we come to blows.’

  Adam made no response, he just kept staring at his brother with disdain.

  Roger affected a conversational tone. ‘Viola’s changed, hasn’t she?’

  Adam stood up. ‘Damned right she has. Viola Taylor didn’t use to give a rat’s arse about society’s conventions. I remember her tracking me down and begging me to put out the fires that had been started by some older choir boys.’

  The brothers failed to notice that Viola was furiously blushing.

  Roger lightly whacked Adam’s shoulder. ‘I don’t believe you. She’s cold as ice.’

  ‘Bullshit. At the age of about thirteen she loved being pleasured up against the church door, behind the sacristy or under the altar. One winter’s night Viola insisted I vigorously demonstrate my affection, while she lay spreadeagled on our founder’s marble crypt.’

  Roger showed his true colours. ‘That’s just not possible, she must have been faking it. Girls don’t experience lust the way boys do.’

  Adam placed a cushion under Viola�
��s head and her eyelids fluttered. ‘Listen Roger, men and women have similar sexual appetites. But they express their desires differently according to the mores of their culture.’

  Roger snapped a fondant decoration off a cake and examined it thoughtfully. ‘You’re wrong. Females are passive by nature. They’re just cud-chewing cows. Unless they’re unhinged like Thomasina Wolff. She’d fuck the devil if there was money to be made.’ He shrugged. ‘We men have got no choice but to seduce, force or buy the women we want.’

  Adam snorted. ‘That’s a declaration of stupidity. If you cracked open a few books you’d know better. Are you familiar with the famous British explorer and ethnologist Richard Burton?’

  ‘No. I’m far too busy trying to keep Mama under control, while you and Caesar gallivant around the globe.’

  ‘Listen, Caesar and I are not just touring the globe for the hell of it. We’re running the family enterprise that maintains you and her Ladyship in luxury.’

  ‘I dare say you are, Adam. But I bet it’s intoxicating when those bare-breasted island beauties row out to greet your ship and hang flowered leis around your neck.’

  ‘Fuck me, you’ve got no idea what happens at sea. You think we’re living out a Boy’s Own adventure story. If you’d bothered reading our dispatches, you’d know that two of Caesar’s crew were murdered by pirates in the Caspian. And my trip has been a goddamn disaster with several of my men losing their lives.’

  Roger tried to look suitably chastened. ‘Point taken. I should be more involved in the family business. I’ll give it some serious thought.’

  Adam wasn’t fooled. ‘Let’s talk about something else before I strangle you with my bare hands.’ He finished off Roger’s brandy and shuddered. ‘Bloody hell, that’s worse than the booze at the Tub of Blood. Anyway, Richard Burton’s writings on sexual congress are riveting. He was fascinated by erotic transgressions and the forbidden.’

  Roger perked up. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, matriarchal tribes once existed where the roles of males and females were reversed. The women were warriors and the men stayed at home.’

  Roger yawned as he gently stroked Viola’s slender white throat. ‘My God you’re a dreary bastard. You should back away from the books. They’re consuming you.’

  ‘You’ve got a first-rate mind, Roger. But instead of using it, you persist in behaving like a dilettante and a dissolute rake. Just like your old man.’

  Roger leapt up and grabbed a cake knife. ‘How dare you!’

  Adam ignored him. Bending down, he rearranged Viola’s skirt and restored her modesty. ‘You know it’s astonishing the damage religious bigotry can inflict on young women.’

  Roger dropped the knife, untied Viola’s bonnet and tossed it under the counter. Her long blonde hair tumbled loose and he examined her with renewed interest. ‘You know, I never understood why the vicar pushed his only daughter into marrying that depraved bastard. You’ve no idea what used to go on at hunt meetings. I can’t believe Balcombe died of natural causes, given the number of hunt members who wanted to put a bullet in his head.’

  ‘I was surprised to hear he was quite cruel to Viola.’

  ‘What the fuck do you expect, Adam? Not only are the Balcombes inbred but most of them are barking mad.’

  Adam stroked the soft inside of Viola’s wrist and her pelvis lifted slightly. He stood up, stretched and moved to the counter to pour himself a glass of water. Meantime Roger was taking an unhealthy interest in Viola’s wellbeing. He propped her against his inner thigh and undid the tight buttons at her throat. Sizing up the prey no doubt. If his brother hadn’t been there, Roger would have been all over her like a virulent rash.

  Roger said, ‘Remember at school when you king-hit Lionel Balcombe in the ring and he cried? Pathetic bastard.’ He eyed Viola speculatively. ‘You know, she’d still be stunning if she got rid of this matronly get up. How about I take her home in my carriage?’

  That was it. There was no way I was going to stand by and allow Roger to prey on my dearest friend. He was an expert in carriage seduction. Several girls had lost their virtue after consenting to an afternoon carriage ride. The Dasher coat of arms was not a cheering sight. Mothers trembled when they saw the Dashers’ sinister black carriage going past with its curtains drawn. After all, one of their daughters could be inside.

  I stepped into the shop and gestured accusingly at the Dashers. ‘Out! Both of you.’

  Roger tried to speak but I pointed at the shop door and glared at him. He left.

  My captain lingered and turned the full power of his gaze upon me. I blushed deeply. There wasn’t enough air in the shop and I felt decidedly overheated.

  ‘Don’t be cross, Sasha. We were only horsing around. I’ve just made port and I rushed here to see you. God, you’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you.’

  I tried to be stern and failed. I was already his and he knew it.

  Adam touched me suggestively and lightly kissed my lips. His eyes were warm when he said, ‘I’ll be back for you tonight at closing time. Till then, my love.’

  I didn’t think I could get through the afternoon without him but pride prevented me from saying so.

  Then he was gone. I listened to the sound of his metal-capped boots striking the front steps. Then I rushed to the front window and watched as he sauntered along Main Street, hands deep in his leather trouser pockets. Captain Dasher towered over everyone and women’s heads turned to admire his broad shoulders, ship rolling swagger and nonchalant grin. A pair of professional beauties in an open carriage, flirtatiously beckoned him but he nodded politely and didn’t break his stride. I watched him until he reached the end of the street and turned the corner.

  I desperately wanted to run after him and never let him out of my sight. I yearned to keep him safe from savage seas, dangerous men and conniving women. But reality prevailed and I turned my attention to Viola. She was still out cold. It occurred to me that maybe she wasn’t foxing after all.

  Maggie returned. She hadn’t found Snuff or Charlie. We carried Viola out to the kitchen and laid her down on the hearth rug, in front of the kitchen fire. I said to Maggie, ‘Please fetch a blanket and the smelling salts. Wait. On second thoughts, bring Viola an angel croissant and fetch some Perrier-Jouët. I’m dying for a drink.’

  Viola’s opened her eyes but she remained supine. I tried to loosen her corset but it was an impossible task given that she was trussed up with double and triple knots. She murmured, ‘Have those beastly Dasher boys gone?’

  ‘Yes. Damnit, I can’t believe how tightly you’ve laced your corset. No wonder you passed out.’

  Viola’s eyes closed. She was not being at all helpful. I let her rest.

  Maggie returned and handed me a croissant on a plate and a large glass of champagne.

  ‘Fetch two more champagnes, please Maggie. We should all have a tipple, it’s been a trying morning.’

  I lifted Viola’s head and fanned the croissant under her nose. She twitched but her eyes stayed closed. I tried again and Viola licked her lips. On the third pass her eyes opened. Success. I placed the croissant plate on the rug and sat back on my heels.

  She said in a toffy accent, ‘I say, Miss Torte, how did I end up on your kitchen floor?’

  I grinned at her. ‘Oh cut it out, Viola. We’ve known each other since we were children. You can’t play those sorts of games with me. So tell me, did marriage to Lord Balcombe scramble your brains as well as ruin your cheerful disposition? I was very surprised to see you in my shop, given that you have been going out of your way to avoid me.’

  She promptly burst into tears. I put my arm around her shoulders and was shocked at how thin she was. I felt mean.

  Viola was so upset she could hardly get the words out. ‘Oh, Sasha, I’m so miserable and it’s got nothing to do with Balcombe’s death. I’m not exactly in mourning.’

  ‘I know. I hear everything in the shop. You should’ve come to see me sooner. I was terribly hurt when you s
tarted avoiding me.’

  I gave her my handkerchief and she blew her nose. ‘I desperately wanted to see you but I was too ashamed. My late husband alienated everyone. I’m so lonely rattling around that goddamn estate.’ She sniffed the air and glanced around with a wild look in her eye. ‘What is that sensational aroma?’

  ‘It’s this angel croissant. What you can smell is the delicious almond-vanilla cream. You know, if I were to load a dozen of these onto an angel’s wing tip, the angel could still ascend back to heaven.’

  Her eyes locked onto the croissant. She swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t know such a thing existed.’

  I lifted the plate up so she could see it better. ‘Did you know the sides of an oven tend to be the hottest part? Or how important it is for the last row of croissants to face backwards?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Because, otherwise the points of the croissants will burn. Charlie taught me about the duality of fire. It provides us with warmth and pleasure but it can just as easily turn on us. But let’s not digress. How about you taste this delicious croissant?’

  Viola turned her head away. ‘No, I can’t, I’m a tad feverish. Adam Dasher has that effect on me. When I saw him in your shop I panicked and couldn’t breathe . . . I don’t know why.’

  She was lying to protect herself and I thought it best to remain silent. Thanks to Adam, I now knew more about Viola’s past than I should have. I felt like I’d betrayed her. Eavesdroppers get everything they deserve. However, I should admit that I’d been impressed to hear about young Viola Taylor going after what she wanted with such boldness. At thirteen years of age I’d been incapable of saying boo to a goose. It didn’t particularly bother me that she’d been sexually involved with Adam. Namely because it was in the past and no relationship had eventuated from their brief liaison. I find it difficult to work myself up to a jealous frenzy when it involves people I love.

  Maggie reappeared with two more champagne glasses and a bottle of Perrier-Jouët. I knew I had to get some sustenance into Viola. She was stick thin and even her freckles looked pale. So I offered her the champagne. ‘Come, Viola. Treat it as you would a medicine. Dr Dual prescribes champagne for pregnant women as a cure for morning sickness.’