‘Like nightmares?’ she asked with a wry smile.
‘Exactly like nightmares.’
While recognising that there was truth in Jeffrey’s words, she also recognised a greater truth – she now needed nothing so much as time and space to sift through the many confusing thoughts that were saturating her mind. She was experiencing her first doubts about Jeffrey but wasn’t quite sure where they were coming from. Finally, she spoke quietly. ‘Maybe it’s not the best time to be talking like this. I’m too tired. I’m afraid I might be going down with flu, and I would like to get some more sleep if I can.’
Nodding, Jeffrey rose from the bed. ‘Sorry, I was so excited at the news I didn’t stop to think. Is there anything you want? For the flu, I mean?’
Helen, amused at his sudden concern, shook her head. Jeffrey nodded. ‘OK. Get some sleep and maybe later you’ll feel well enough to have dinner with us.’
‘Us?’
‘Annabel. I told you, she’s on her way over. Should be here any minute.’
Jeffrey left her with many sudden doubts. Cursing the dead feeling in her head, she remembered her chilling naked walk to Madame Victoria’s and, mentally, upgraded her symptoms from flu to pneumonia.
Helen’s next memory was of being gently woken by the sound of Jeffrey’s concerned voice. ‘Helen, I’m leaving now. There’s an early plane to Berlin – the sooner I get started the sooner I’ll be back.’
Still asleep, a befuddled Helen tried to rouse herself to understand what he was saying. ‘Tonight?’ she asked.
‘It isn’t tonight. It’s morning. You’ve slept round the clock.’
Startled, Helen stared at Jeffrey. ‘Morning? How long have I been asleep?’
‘On and off – something like eighteen hours, but you obviously needed it. I’ll be gone at least two days, I suppose. It’s a chance for you to get rested.’
With a vague feeling that everything was coming unravelled, Helen tried to put her arms around Jeffrey, feeling it was important to hold on to him at that moment. Gently Jeffrey unwound her embrace. ‘I have to go or I’ll miss the flight and that’ll make the trip that much longer.’ Leaning in, he gave her what, in her present mood, seemed no more than a patronising kiss and left her gazing after him as he hurried off to the door. ‘I’ll call you this evening and let you know how things are going.’
Muddled and cursing herself for being barely awake at the moment of his leaving, she lay back on the bed engulfed in a growing sense of unease. The bedside clock told her it was barely 7 am – 6 am London time she told herself for no logical reason she could think of.
Turning on her side she ruminated that she had a great deal to consider, but the problems grew more indistinct the more she thought about them. Gratefully she felt sleep once more overtaking her and decided to slide into its comforting embrace and worry about her indeterminate troubles later.
At first she thought she was dreaming of being attacked and became panicked when she realised it was real and that she was awake. A man was holding her in his arms and laying fervent kisses on her forehead and cheeks. Anger pumping adrenalin, she started fighting the man off furiously until she, amazed, saw that her ‘attacker’ was Qito!
‘You are a very strong woman,’ he was saying, ruefully nursing a bruised cheek before a broad, sparkling smile broke out of his deeply tanned face. ‘You looked so beautiful lying there – I couldn’t resist you!’
Dragging the covers defensively about her she stared at Qito. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.
‘We came to invite you and Jeffrey! Carla and I are leaving at noon for Basse Terre. We wanted you both to come with us. I want to paint you.’
‘Jeffrey’s not here,’ she told him, aware that he must already know that. ‘How did you get in?’
‘Annabel kindly let us in. She and Carla are having breakfast right now. Will you come?’
‘To breakfast?’
‘To Basse Terre.’
‘I don’t even know where that is.’
‘It’s the capital of Guadeloupe – a département of France – a domestic flight from Paris.’
Helen felt herself being buried under an avalanche of confusion. Jeffrey had wanted to take her to Germany. Now Qito was proposing she go, immediately, to a place she had never heard of. If she had been tied between two horses and about to be torn to pieces she couldn’t have felt more perplexed. She just wished her head, seemingly filled with concrete, would clear.
‘You’ll have to talk to Jeffrey about that, and he’s not here.’
‘I don’t need Jeffrey. It’s you I want to paint.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, I can’t go anywhere – I …’ Helen broke off and then, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, made a more direct appeal. ‘Look, I can’t think like this. Let me get up and then we can talk.’
Spreading his hands expansively, Qito rose from the bed. ‘Of course, but we haven’t much time. We have to be at the airport in an hour. Don’t take too long!’ he cried breezily before going out.
Left alone, Helen lay in the bed and considered that her world, already disordered, was now in chaos. The one thing she knew for certain was that she wasn’t going anywhere before she spoke to Jeffrey, but that thought only served to remind her that she, presently, had no way of contacting him.
Emerging into the suite’s sitting-room she was surprised to see Annabel rising from the breakfast table still wearing a dressing-gown. This item brought a rush of even more confusing thoughts about just where Annabel and, more especially, Jeffrey had spent the night. Carla was agitatedly mobile, inspecting the hotel suite as if she might be considering buying it.
‘They’ve re-decorated since I was last in this hotel,’ Carla was saying as she looked disapprovingly at a silk lamp shade. ‘Pity they didn’t take the opportunity to improve it.’ Then, finally acknowledging Helen’s presence, she swooped towards her. ‘It seems we are fated to meet constantly,’ she cooed as she grabbed a startled Helen and delivered a swift kiss on each cheek. ‘Qito is positively enraptured by you, darling!’ Carla’s words managed to convey that she did not entirely go along with that assessment.
Annabel came to Helen’s startled assistance. ‘How are you feeling?’ Annabel asked. ‘Jeffrey said he thought you might be coming down with flu or something. In any case, you look as if you could use a hot drink. Come.’
With a growing feeling that she had, during her sleep, become something of an outsider – even an intruder – it took an effort of will to remind herself that she was here with Jeffrey and it was they, if anyone, that were intruding on her. Burying herself in the fine porcelain teacup, Helen felt some of her vital life signs slowly returning.
Carla, meanwhile, was continuing her peripatetic inspection of the premises. ‘If you are having influenza stay away from me. I catch everything!’
Qito joined in. ‘The best thing for the grippe is warm sea air! Guadeloupe is just the place for that. Take my advice – pack a bag and jump on the plane with us.’
‘Qito,’ Carla’s voice contained a threatening note of caution. ‘Give the girl a chance. There’s always another time.’
Qito’s response was explosive. ‘Another time! You don’t know what you’re talking about. You never understand! I have my muse – ‘ Helen was startled to find that role assigned to her. ‘I have the place – the island we found last year – and I have the inspiration. You imagine I can switch such things on and off like a tap?’ Turning to Annabel he demanded, ‘Where is Jeffrey? I must speak to him immediately.’
Annabel shrugged. ‘Not possible, I’m afraid. He’s probably somewhere in the air between here and Berlin. After that he has to find his way to the Polish border but I’m sure we’ll hear from him tonight.’
‘Ridiculous!’ cried Qito. ‘We will be on our way to Guadeloupe by then. There’s only one solution. Helen comes with us and you tell Jeffrey to join us later in Guadeloupe.’
‘Wait a moment!’ cried an exasperated Helen. ‘
Don’t I count for anything in this conversation? In the first place, I’m not going anywhere – certainly not to some place I’ve never heard of – without, at least, speaking to Jeffrey and, in the second place, I don’t even want to.’
Qito stared at her in horror. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying!’ he cried. ‘Don’t you understand? I need you!’
Suddenly angry, Helen found herself on her feet and shouting at Qito. ‘What an arrogant little man you are!’ she cried. ‘You need so the whole world has to fall into line? Well I don’t!’
Having left herself with no other place to go, Helen fled the breakfast room, taking with her the image of Qito’s astonished face and leaving behind a solid stunned silence broken only by Carla’s cry of approval and solitary applause.
In her bedroom Helen was still seething. Everything this wakening was off kilter. Immediately realising that her anger was due to an uncomfortable feeling that she had been ‘dumped’ in Paris in favour of Jeffrey’s almost frenetic enthusiasm to recover his precious car. There was also the unsettling discovery that Jeffrey had spent the night in the suite where the only alternative to Helen’s bed had been Annabel’s. Added to which, this ludicrous assumption that she would be thrilled to go off to some unknown destination with a virtual stranger, made her feel as if she had stumbled into a Parisian version of the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.
Agitated wasn’t the word for it!
When Qito came cautiously after her she felt ready to vent herself more fully but his soulful eyes dissuaded her until he’d spoken. ‘Cara …’ he murmured, coming forward and reaching out for an embrace which she, with conscious petulance, avoided. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he was saying in his softest tones. ‘Truly, Jeffrey is one of my oldest and truest friends. Had he been here, I know he would have agreed at once – maybe not to come with us immediately – but, maybe, to follow on in a day or two. I meant no insult by my suggestion.’
Despite herself Helen found his obvious sincerity beguiling, but she still had no coherent answer to make.
‘I have a suggestion,’ Qito was saying. ‘I will leave first class tickets at the airport desk for both you and Jeffrey. That way you can join us as my guests whenever you wish. Is that fair?’ he asked before adding in the face of her continuing confusion, ‘Am I forgiven?’
Finding his tone conciliatory, and the pressure of the need to make a decision lifting, she managed a smile. ‘I’m sorry. I just feel a little irritable this morning. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I am coming down with something but I shouldn’t have spoken to you as I did. I’m sorry.’
Qito’s face positively beamed with relief. ‘Then everyone forgives everyone else!’ This time as he came forward she allowed him to take her into a light embrace. ‘When you’ve spoken to Jeffrey, and you feel better, come. It’s a beautiful place. The sun shines, the water is warm and, there, they don’t know what a grey day is. It would do you good!’ Holding her at arm’s length he beamed. ‘And I need you to inspire me!’
The cosy warmth that had been established between them was peremptorily interrupted by the cutting edge of Carla’s voice. ‘Qito!’ she said sharply. ‘We have to go if we are to catch that flight.’
Stepping back with an alacrity that suggested guilt, Qito turned to his wife. ‘Of course. Subito!’ he said.
Helen found herself quite pleased – even flattered – to be the subject of a withering look from Carla before the lady turned abruptly from the bedroom.
‘So, I may hope to see you in Guadeloupe!’ Qito was insisting.
Smiling, Helen told him she would have to speak to Jeffrey and see what he said. This answer seemed to satisfy Qito as he turned, chastened, to join the impatiently waiting Carla.
‘Don’t forget,’ Qito cautioned her on leaving. ‘Tickets will be waiting!’
With the barest of polite goodbyes Carla all but dragged Qito from the suite, leaving Helen to face Annabel whose dressing-gown reminded her again of unresolved doubts, best left, she decided, until another time.
‘Aren’t you excited?’ Annabel asked.
‘About what?’
‘That Qito, of all people, wants you to pose for him. He would immortalise you!’
At any other time Helen might have found Annabel’s enthusiasm faintly comic but, in her present mood, she could find nothing even remotely funny. ‘Maybe,’ she said as she made her way into her room and, settling on the bed, felt in need of a damn good cry.
That evening, feeling that Annabel had dragged her across half of Paris, Helen returned to the hotel anxious not to miss Jeffrey’s promised telephone call. She was frustrated to find a message from him that he was sorry to have missed her and would call again later.
Beginning to find Annabel’s presence oppressive, she bluntly asked her how long she meant to stay. Annabel shrugged. ‘Jeffrey did ask me to look after you while he was gone.’
‘I don’t need looking after,’ she said, not bothering to disguise her acid tone.
Annabel seemed quite at ease and Helen got the distinct impression the girl was enjoying the discomfort of her presence. ‘It’s a little late to go back to London tonight.’ Annabel smiled. ‘Perhaps in the morning – that is, if Jeffrey doesn’t want me to stay on.’
Aware that she had been subtly reminded that Jeffrey had the last word in the arrangements, Helen felt a surge of bitterness. ‘Well, at least,’ she said with deliberate sarcasm, ‘you’ll have the bed to yourself tonight, won’t you?’
Annabel opened her mouth as if to say something but settled for an inscrutable smile which infuriated Helen even more. Turning on her heel, Helen went to her own room and closed the door with noisy emphasis.
When, later, Annabel called through the door to ask if she should order a room-service dinner, Helen told her she wasn’t hungry and settled in for a grumpy night, not caring that she was behaving badly.
Jeffrey’s promised call didn’t materialise and so it was an even more unsettled Helen that faced Annabel the following morning.
In answer to Helen’s somewhat forlorn enquiry, Annabel told her that the only call had come from the airline to confirm that they were holding tickets in the names of Helen Lloyd and Jeffrey Hacking.
Not wanting to leave the hotel in case she again missed Jeffrey’s call, Helen waited impatiently throughout the morning until, close to two in the afternoon, she finally heard Jeffrey’s voice.
‘Hi! I’m sorry about this. There’s more red tape than you can imagine. I’ve had to hire a local lawyer to try and fight my way through it but he hardly speaks English and my German is atrocious. I’m afraid this could take longer than I thought. There’s talk that they will have to hold the car as evidence until the smugglers come up for trial.’
‘But that could take weeks!’ Helen protested. ‘Surely you don’t intend staying there that long?’
Her heart sank as she heard Jeffrey’s sigh. ‘Well, no, but I think I should stay at least another couple of days and see what can be done to speed things up.’ As if trying to cheer her up, he added, ‘By the way, I’ve seen the car and it’s totally undamaged. That’s something, don’t you think?’
Helen didn’t think it was much and let that into her tone as she answered. ‘I feel pretty silly sitting in Paris on my own. The best thing I can do is go back to London – but I’m not sure how to settle the bill.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Let me talk to Annabel …’
Handing over the telephone Helen felt even more out of place than before Jeffrey’s call.
She heard the efficient Annabel assuring Jeffrey that she would take care of everything, and then, without offering Helen the chance for a last word with Jeffrey, hung up.
‘Nothing’s easy,’ smiled Annabel. ‘I even told him not to expect too much before he left. He’s crazy about that car.’
‘To the exclusion of all else it seems,’ murmured Helen.
‘What a shame you didn’t accept Qito’s invitation,’ Annabel
said brightly.
Reminded that she hadn’t even thought to mention the invitation to Jeffrey she asked, ‘You don’t imagine I had any serious intention of going, did you?’
Annabel looked bemused. ‘How many chances at immortality are you going to get?’ she asked. ‘I know what I’d do,’ Annabel added.
Looking up, Helen saw a strangely thoughtful looking Annabel handing her a drink. As she gratefully reached for it she had little idea that her, already shaky confidence was about to be totally shattered.
‘You do know he’s married, don’t you?’ asked Annabel.
Helen smiled. ‘Qito? Of course. Carla was right here.’
‘I meant Jeffrey,’ said Annabel.
10
TO BE CONFUSED was one thing. To be confused about why she was confused was demeaning. She had run away. That fact was clear in her mind even as she had blundered out of the hotel and taken a cab to the airport. They had the ticket and, since nothing could be too much trouble for anyone connected with Qito, she found herself caught up in a highly efficient process which demanded nothing of her but her presence. She had given no thought to where she was going but only to what she was leaving behind.
She felt emotionally violated. She had opened herself completely to Jeffrey, more so than any other living being and he had betrayed her. She remembered him saying that there were things he had yet to tell her, but thought the basic fact of his being married left unsaid was unforgivable, and it was this that was the source of her confusion. The issue of marriage had never been mentioned and, indeed, given the short time they had known each other, it would have been ludicrous. However, given that, in little more than a week, they had explored each other’s sexuality with such complete abandon, she did consider that it entitled her to believe that a bond of trust had been formed, which Annabel’s news had totally shattered.
The Gift of Shame Page 12
