The Book of Eve

by Julia Blake

  The woman’s red-headed giant of a husband is lying back in a deckchair, listening in smiling silence to Robert as he expounds on some unheard subject, his hands gesturing as though to emphasis a point. Of Caroline there is no sign, but the other two men, the kindly-looking one who’d so gallantly found a seat for his pregnant friend and the blond haired gay one were sitting on deckchairs, chatting to Annaliese, legs stretched out as they slouch easily in their seats.

  And then there was Scott, sprawled at Annaliese’s feet on a tartan rug, raised on his elbows, he listened to the different conversations around him and watched Annaliese’s face. Occasionally, her eyes would flick down to his and she would smile a gentle loving smile. I wondered, with a stab of quick hot envy, if there was anything going on between them.

  Suddenly, Annaliese once again seemed to almost sense my presence and she raised her head, looked directly at me across the distance, blue eyes serious and intense. Then she smiled, raised a hand to me in greeting, Scott began to turn, to see what had caught her attention and I fled, cheeks flaming, back to the kitchen to help Mrs Briggs with the desserts.

  Carefully, feet now so excruciatingly painful every step was agony, I hobbled behind Mrs Briggs and Ally as we transported great platters on which resided the most amazing desserts I’d ever seen. A magnificent summer fruit pavlova, a massive cut crystal bowl of succulent strawberries, Mrs Brigg’s home-made trifle, a moist and delicious looking chocolate fudge cake, great jugs of cream, a huge cheeseboard, decorated with celery, nuts and fresh figs.

  Finally, Mrs Briggs and Ally carefully manoeuvred a massive three tiered birthday cake into the conservatory, ablaze with thirty five candles. Annaliese was quickly summoned to blow them out, amidst a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday to You and For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.

  I stood there, clutching a flat wicker basket piled up with juicy apples and pears, watch her try to blow out all the candles, intensely aware of how stunningly vibrant and alive she is. She throws back her head, laughs with sheer delight, and I think how she doesn’t look thirty five. In fact, if I’m brutally honest with myself, she probably looks younger than me. The past year I’ve had a steady diet of junk food and my skin has suffered as a result. Embarrassed by my bitten down nails, I curl them under the edge of the basket, trying to hide them from view, acutely aware my hair desperately needed conditioning and a decent cut.

  Scott stood with her, waiting with a knife to help her cut the cake. I dropped my eyes away from their attractiveness, the contrast between their life and mine couldn’t have been more obvious. I wished I hadn’t come. All I wanted to do now was collect my money and go home.

  There was a surge as the guests swelled forward to congratulate Annaliese and I felt an intense raw blast of pain as someone blundered heavily onto my foot, crushing the already blistered and mangled toes, causing me to shriek in agony, stumble to my knees and drop the basket of fruit.

  Mortified, I watched in frozen fascination as dozens of faces begin to turn curiously in my direction, and apples rolled gaily in all directions, some imperceptible slope in the floor making the majority of them bounce jauntily under the table, thudding to a stop against Scott’s feet.

  ‘Melissa!’ hissed Ally in horror. I turned teary, panic stricken eyes to the birthday girl, stunned when she burst into peals of delighted laughter. Stooping, she gathered up a handful of apples.

  ‘Maybe I should rename you Adam,’ she taunted Scott, waving them under his nose. ‘Wasn’t he tempted when Eve threw an apple at him?’ There was a ripple of laughter. I felt Ally pull me up, desperate to get us both back to the sanctuary of the kitchen. I took a step, pain shot up my leg and my face crumpled in anguish as an agonised cry was forced from my throat. The laughter immediately disappeared from Annaliese, the next instant she was by my side forcing me to sit in a chair, kneeling at my feet as she tenderly removed my shoes, her eyes going wide with shock at their raw bleeding state.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ she cried, ‘You poor darling! Scott...’ immediately he was next to her, his face registering concern at the condition of my feet. ‘Scott, be an angel and carry your poor little Eve to my room, those feet need to be tended to.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ I gasped, mortified at being the cause of such uproar. ‘I can walk to the kitchen and it’s nearly time for me to go home anyway.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Annaliese cried, her brows wrinkling in distress. ‘You’re not going anywhere until those poor feet have been sorted out.’ She arose and nodded to Scott. I squeaked as he swiftly and efficiently swept me up into his arms, pushing his way through the crowds of curious onlookers, who murmured in sympathy and silently created a pathway through which he strode.

  ‘Caro, darling,’ Caroline O’Donnell appeared from nowhere, glaring at me as if I’d done it on purpose, small eyes flinty hard with suspicion. ‘Please could you supervise cutting the cake and make sure everyone tucks into those yummy looking desserts. I’m just going to tend to poor Eve’s feet and then we’ll be right down.’ Caro’s mouth opened to object, but Annaliese swept past, motioning Scott to proceed up the stairs with me still lying in his arms, shocked to the core, yet secretly enjoying the experience immensely. Over his shoulder I saw Ally, mouth open, eyes stunned, hints of envy lurking within them.

  Annaliese’s room was a cool shady oasis of cream and palest green. I looked around me in silent appreciative admiration as Scott gently placed me on a small sofa sat at a right angle to a charming little fireplace in which a basket of white flowers rested. He shook his head as Annaliese hurried through an adjoining door, which I assumed led to a bathroom. ‘I know you said your feet hurt,’ he commented dryly, ‘But I didn’t realise they were hurting that much. Why on earth didn’t you say something?’

  ‘They weren’t that bad,’ I mumbled. ‘At least, they weren’t until they got trodden on.’

  ‘Scott, my sweetheart,’ Annaliese re-entered the room, carefully carrying a large china bowl in which warm water lapped. ‘Could you please go and ask Mrs Briggs for some antiseptic cream and plasters?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied coolly, and left the room, whilst Annaliese knelt and eased my feet into the bowl. I swallowed down my moan of pain as hot water washed over the torn and bleeding skin and she glanced at me sympathetically. Close too she was as beautiful as she’d been at a distance, and although I could see a fine network of laughter lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes they only served to heighten her appeal.

  ‘You poor thing,’ she murmured, small hands softly sluicing water over my battered feet. ‘You should have said something,’ she chided gently.

  ‘I didn’t want to make a fuss, it’s your birthday party after all,’ I replied, and she flashed me a mischievous smile, china blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

  ‘So instead you threw apples at poor Scott,’ I flushed and she laughed out loud. ‘Don’t worry about it, Eve; the look on his face was simply priceless.’ I found myself unable to help returning her smile and she patted my hand. ‘That’s better,’ she exclaimed. ‘Now then,’ she carefully lifted my feet out of the water and wrapped them in a large fluffy towel she’d also brought from the bathroom. ‘I’ll let you dry your feet whilst I find you a pair of shoes to go home in.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I exclaimed in horror. ‘That’s ok, I’ll...’

  ‘Now then, Eve,’ she interrupted with a mockingly stern look, ‘You don’t really want to squeeze your poor feet back into those killer heels, do you?’ Sheepishly, I shook my head, watched mutely as she vanished through another door into an enormous walk in wardrobe, reappearing a few moments later brandishing a beautiful pair of flat jewelled leather sandals.

  ‘These are probably the best thing,’ she said, handing them to me. ‘They won’t rub on your toes.’ I took the shoes and examined them in delight, running fingers over the gem stone encrusted straps. I’d never seen anything s
o pretty before and beamed at Annaliese.

  ‘They’re gorgeous,’ I exclaimed, and she smiled with pleasure. There was a knock at the door and Scott entered carrying a small red first aid kit. Annaliese held her hand out for it, but he shook his head.

  ‘I’ll help Eve put on the plasters,’ he offered. ‘You’re needed downstairs, Annaliese. Some of the older guests are making noises about leaving, you should go and say goodbye to them.’

  ‘Should I?’ she sighed in resignation. ‘You’re absolutely right, as usual, Scott. You take care of Eve, I’ll see you both downstairs soon.’ Leaning over, she pressed a quick kiss on my forehead, stroked my hair. ‘You take care of yourself, darling Eve, and promise me, no more squeezing those poor little feet of yours into horrid uncomfortable shoes.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I promised earnestly. ‘And thank you,’ I cried as she moved away, desperate to delay her leaving by even a moment. ‘Thank you for everything, for the shoes.’

  ‘It was nothing...’ she gestured impatiently with her hands.

  ‘No, really, thank you, I promise I’ll return them as soon as possible.’

  ‘Keep them,’ she insisted, but I shook my head in horror.

  ‘I couldn’t, I mean, it’s so kind of you to lend them to me, but...’

  ‘Very well, Eve,’ she smiled, that bright, illuminating smile already so achingly familiar to me. ‘Return the shoes if you like, at least that way we’ll get to see you again.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed gratefully. ‘I’ll bring them back, soon.’ One more smile, a nod, and she was gone, leaving the room dark and strangely empty. Scott knelt by my feet, snapped open the first aid kit and rummaged through the assorted medical essentials until he located a tube of antiseptic cream. I watched in silent fascination as he unscrewed the lid, his large hands making it seem of almost toy town proportions.

  Slowly, he squeezed some onto his finger and I swallowed, unable to tear my gaze away from his hands. Reaching out, he cupped my foot in the palm of his hand. The shock of contact seared up my leg, stabbed me in the groin, and I choked back a groan, squirming at his touch.

  ‘Sorry,’ he apologised, mistaking the motive for the intake of breath and sudden flinching, as he slowly and gently dabbed the cream onto the broken skin. ‘This might sting a little.’

  ‘Just a little,’ I muttered, looking down at his dark shiny hair, feeling the strongest of urges to run my fingers through it. My hand rose, hovered mere inches away from his head and then I caught sight of the broken nails, the rough chapped skin and resolutely pulled it back.

  Our worlds were light years apart; he was obviously rich, at least ten years older than me, probably used to sophisticated and beautiful women, not grubby little waitresses with wild hair and spots. He was a daydream, a gorgeously unobtainable daydream. I felt suddenly small, incredibly stupid, for even thinking for one second he’d ever be interested in a silly kid like me, because that’s all I was to him, a child.

  ‘It’s ok.’ Suddenly embarrassed I pulled my foot from his grasp. ‘I can do that, really, you don’t have to... I mean, it’s... it’s just, I’ll do it.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ In one fluid movement he lifted the china bowl and took it into the bathroom. I heard him tip the contents down the sink, desperately, I wrapped my toes in plasters, the inane thought occurring how unattractive toes are, short squat sausages on the end of our feet.

  ‘Thank you,’ I muttered, as he re-entered the room. ‘You’ve been very kind, you and... Annaliese,’ I stumbled a little over her name, and he smiled, as though understanding and sympathising with my discomfort.

  ‘Kindness should be Annaliese’s middle name,’ he replied. ‘I really don’t know how she does it, I mean; I’ve never heard her say an unpleasant word about anyone.’

  ‘And you?’ I heard myself say. ‘Are you kind?’

  He paused, as if considering my ridiculous question, shrugged again. ‘Sometimes,’ he replied, ‘When it suits me.’ He left me alone then in Annaliese’s room, after telling me firmly to rest for a few moments then come down to the party for a glass of champagne, seeming to forget I was merely staff, the hired help. I leaned back against the sofa, closing my eyes in weary confusion. Emotionally drained, I felt like I’d been abducted by aliens, carried off to a beautiful but strange new world, a place of grace and elegance and extreme kindness to total strangers, I liked this world, wanted to stay in it.

  Cautiously I stood up, Annaliese’s shoes felt cool and comfortable against my swollen feet. Just as she’d hoped, the open toed shoes avoided the blisters. Apart from the unattractiveness of having a plaster stuck on every toe, my feet felt the best they had all day.

  I left the room, easing shut the door behind me, made my way back to the stairs, letting my hand trail down the silky softness of the wooden banister, my shoes clicking slightly on the beauty of the marbled stairs. Half way down the stairs took a sharp right turn, until that point anyone coming down the stairs was hidden from the view of people in the hall below, and I realised this was where Annaliese had waited to make her grand entrance earlier.

  I paused, imagined her standing there, listening to her husband’s admiring speech, the laughter of her friends waiting for her and then I heard them, strangers, two party guests; they were standing on the stairs, just hidden from my view by the bend in the wall. ‘Splendid party,’ the voice was male, bluff and hearty, his tone speaking of a lifetime of wealth and gentleman’s clubs.

  ‘Yes, well, Annaliese always does throw a good bash. But I say, how about that embarrassing scene earlier?’ the other voice was female, catty and shrill.

  ‘You mean when the little waitress dropped the fruit basket? Rather funny, I thought, though I don’t know why Annaliese had to make such a fuss over her.’

  ‘You know Annaliese and her little charity cases, I think she enjoys playing Lady Bountiful, but honestly, it doesn’t do to treat the staff as equals, gives them ideas above their station.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, of course. Anyway, shall we go and find some more champagne?’ They moved away, back down the stairs, their voices mingled, disappeared into the wall of sound below. Stunned, I leant against the wall, bile rising in the back of my throat. Charity case, was that how Annaliese saw me... and Scott? Their actions, which had seemed so kind and natural, took on a more condescending element and my face burned with humiliation.

  Carefully I moved, stumbled upstairs, unable, unwilling to face them. In a daze, wandered along the landing past the door to Annaliese’s room, finally found a small staircase hidden behind a corner, made my way down, hoping I’d found the old servants stairs which would lead me back to the kitchen, bypassing the party and its snobby, patronising guests. I didn’t want to see them, any of them, ever again, felt a wave of profound relief when I finally emerged at the end of the corridor which led to the kitchen. I entered the room to find Mrs Briggs and Ally, their faces concerned and, or was it my imagination, more than a little annoyed.

  ‘Melissa, where on earth have you been?’ cried Ally, her voice sharp and accusing.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘I got lost and it took me ages to find my way back to the kitchen.’

  ‘It’s a big house,’ agreed Mrs Briggs and handed me a white envelope. ‘Thank you very much for your help today, my dear; next time, make sure you wear comfortable shoes.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied, taking the envelope gratefully. ‘I will.’ I smiled reassuringly at her, but knew even if I was offered a million pounds I wouldn’t be coming back. I’d seen a glimpse of their world, of Annaliese’s world, where they ruled with the supreme confidence of kings of old. For a while I’d been dazzled by it, blinded by the easy luxury, their soft voices and correct manners. Yet a few thoughtless words by total strangers had quickly snatched the blinkers from my eyes, showed me their world for what it really was, indolent and
careless, their kindness the mere patronage of the very wealthy to the very poor.

  It sickened me. I wanted no more of it. But a part of me could not shake the way I’d felt when I’d looked into her laughing blue eyes, the thrill of feeling part of their circle, even for just a moment, the exciting unfamiliar emotions that Scott, with his nonchalantly privileged attitude and confidently firm touch, had awakened deep within me.

  I sighed, accepting my old shoes which Ally passed to me, lips tight with barely suppressed jealousy, followed her out to the car to make our silent way home. Driving away, I craned my neck for one last look at Annaliese’s kingdom, glowing golden in the afternoon sun, its windows shining like mercury. Party goers, all dressed in their finest, spilled out of its doors onto the veranda and a part of me ached to be accepted within that world.

  Then, firmly and resolutely, I turned away and once again faced the real world, my world, determined to post Annaliese’s shoes to her as soon as possible, rather than take them back, as I’d promised. Then that would be an end to it, my brief brush with the elite would be over, and I would settle down and get on with my life.

  Chapter Three

  Kings

  Two weeks later, I was still smarting over the experience and had done nothing about returning Annaliese’s shoes. They lay, like a nagging reminder, wrapped in tissue paper at the bottom of the wardrobe. For days after the party, I’d been half convinced Annaliese would somehow contact me, jumping every time my mobile rang. Logically, knew it was impossible, she didn’t even know my real name let alone my number, still a small part of me feared, hoped, I’d hear from her again.

  Much to my surprise and then concern, Mike got himself a job, yet was so smugly secretive I worried exactly what he’d got himself into. Was even more concerned when friends told me they’d seen him hanging about with Wayne Jones. If Mike had been the bad boy at school, then Wayne had been the antichrist. Violent, thuggish and cunning, Wayne bunked off school pretty much all of the time. Had gotten away with it, not only because he was so disruptive the teachers’ lives were easier without him, but because the truancy officers were afraid of him.