‘What’s this?’ Bianca bellowed, waving the shirt back and forth. ‘What is this? You tell me what this is!’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ was all that Bernardo, nonplussed, could lamely reply. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘This is what’s wrong,’ she said as she continued to wave the shirt around and then slapped him on the shoulder with it.
‘What’s got into you? Stop that. You’re hurting me.’
‘Not as much as you’ve hurt me,’ Bianca retorted, rolling the shirt into a ball and presenting her husband with the visible evidence of lipstick traces. ‘Don’t play the innocent with me. How could you, Bernardo? Who is she?’
‘What in God’s name is that?’ Bernardo said, genuine panic in his voice.
‘Lipstick. That’s what that is. Lipstick, Bernardo. You know, the thing women wear. Women and whores. Who is she? That’s what I want to know.’
‘Bianca, I swear I don’t know how that lipstick got onto that shirt. Are you sure it’s my shirt?’
‘Of course it’s your shirt. Unless you now have a friend who his shirts made at the same place as yours and has the same initials as yours embroidered on them too.’
‘As God is my witness, Bianca, I don’t know how it got there.’
‘God is always the last resort of the guilty, Bernardo,’ she retorted chillingly. ‘Who is she?’
‘There is no one else. There’s never been. You know that.’
‘I’m going to New York either next week or the week after at the latest. I need some time to think. And don’t you dare touch me in the meantime. I want you out of the bedroom and sleeping in the guest bedroom. I can see the way things are headed. The next thing you’ll be bringing home is a dose of the clap. And, after you’ve infected me, you’ll swear that you’ve never been unfaithful, and that I must have picked it up off a toilet seat,’ she said witheringly, sweeping out of the room and slamming their bedroom door with such force that it reverberated through the rest of the house.
Three weeks later Bianca flew to New York. She checked into the Pierre and waited for Philippe’s call. His plane had been due in from Paris earlier that afternoon, but it was delayed. She toyed with the orchids he always ordered for her room and idly ate one of the Lebanese dates in pastry which were his favourite sweet while looking at the television. On an impulse, she grabbed the sable coat he had bought her from Maximilien and headed downstairs to buy a packet of chestnuts from the vendor who was customarily positioned on the corner of the Plaza Hotel and Central Park. As she was taking the packet, she turned and there was Amanda Piedraplata at the top of the steps, having just left the Palm Court where she was having tea.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Amanda said in her clipped, almost unfriendly tones. ‘What a small world! How are you?’
‘I’m well thank you. And you?’ Bianca replied, careful to meet reserve with charming reserve.
‘Never better,’ Amanda said, her cheeks flushing. ‘I’ve just been to see my baby daughter in the hospital. Tomorrow I bring her home.’
‘That’s wonderful. Congratulations. What’s the baby’s name going to be?’
‘Anna, after my mother-in-law, and Clara, after my sister-in-law.’
‘I’m delighted for you. I’m here for another five days. If I can be of any assistance to you, please don’t hesitate to ring me. I’m staying across the road, at the Pierre.’
‘You have sons and a daughter, if I remember correctly. They say the relationship between girls and their mothers is different from that between boys and their mothers. Has it been like that for you?’
‘If you have the time,’ said Bianca, seeing that Amanda was more accessible than she had ever been, ‘why don’t you join me at my hotel for a glass of champagne to celebrate? Then I can tell you all I know about sons and daughters.’
‘Why, Bianca, that’s very kind of you,’ Amanda said in that slightly stiff, formal and surprisingly modest way of hers. ‘I think I’d like that very much.’
‘Would you prefer the bar or my suite?’ Bianca asked as they entered the lobby.
‘Whichever is the easiest.’
‘At least, in my suite we won’t have to shout over other people’s conversations, and no one will be able to overhear us,’ Bianca said.
With that the two women headed upstairs.
As soon as Bianca opened the door to her suite, she could tell that the other woman was surprised she was staying in such a lavish suite. ‘How splendid,’ Amanda said without side, sucking in her breath. ‘And those orchids are to die for.’
‘You know what we Latin American girls are like,’ Bianca responded conspiratorially. ‘We can’t live without our orchids.’
She crossed to the telephone and asked room service to bring up a bottle of Louis Roederer Crystal Brut. ‘Or would you prefer Dom Perignon?’ she mouthed to her guest, cupping the mouthpiece with her hand.
‘Whichever you prefer.’
‘This is such exciting news,’ Bianca said when she had hung up. ‘Your own little girl. What does she look like?’
‘She’s gorgeous. Cute little nose. Pretty little mouth. A chin rather like mine, funnily enough, and I wouldn’t be surprised if her colouring is also like mine. Her ancestors all have blue eyes and blonde hair.’
Bianca shrewdly and correctly marked down the extent to which Amanda was uncharacteristically forthcoming as excitement at the impending arrival. Hopeful though she was that this exchange might be the harbinger of a closer friendship, she did not delude herself that it would necessarily be anything but an isolated instance, and one, moreover, that Amanda might come to regret, if only because she was giving away more of herself than she might be comfortable with in more normal circumstances. And life in Mexico City for both Amanda and herself was an amalgam of normal circumstances, no matter how abnormal or extraordinary those circumstances might be to outsiders. Alert to the danger, Bianca nevertheless could not resist the pleasure of empathizing with someone so overflowing with joy and recklessly decided that, irrespective of the consequences, she would go along with the flow.
The champagne arrived. The waiter poured glasses for both ladies before placing the bottle in a silver ice bucket on the table and then withdrawing.
Amanda knocked back her glass so quickly that Bianca had to gulp some of hers in a gracious effort to keep a vague pace with her guest’s consumption.
‘Here, let me replenish you,’ Bianca said, grateful that Amanda would at least afterwards have the excuse - if only to herself - of alcohol.
‘Thank you. I do hope you don’t mind me taking up your time like this.’
‘Amanda, it’s a pleasure. It’s always good to see you. You’re not taking up my time at all.’
Just then the telephone rang. Bianca turned to answer it. Amanda could hear a male voice on the other end. She noticed her hostess listening intently. Then Bianca said, ‘I cannot believe how you tracked me down. This is my day for coincidences. You’ll never believe who I ran into on the street and who’s sitting here with me having a glass of champagne. Amanda Piedraplata! And you saw me leaving the hotel from a taxicab earlier today, and now you’re calling to tell me you too are in town. This is providential. You must come over and join us for a glass of champagne. Yes. Right now. I’ll leave word at the front desk. They’ll show you up.’
Amanda started looking perplexed, albeit pleasantly so. ‘Philippe Mahfud,’ Bianca said as soon as she hung up, her cover story already in place. ‘Can you believe it? He saw me leaving the hotel as he went by in a taxi and rang up to see if I was staying here. Isn’t the world the smallest place?’
Of course, Philippe was downstairs in his room, so he actually had to kill some time in order to make his arrival seem convincing to Amanda.
However, he was soon sitting with the two women, sipping a glass of champagne, listening to Amanda recount her delight in adopting such a beautiful little girl, unaware that his life was about to take the most unexpected of
turns.
‘I hope Ferdie isn’t going to be cross with me for adopting the baby without his knowledge,’ Amanda remarked. ‘You know how difficult he can be, Philippe.’
With that, she turned, looked at Bianca and said: ‘My husband has periods every six months or so when he’s almost impossible. There’s nothing one can do but accept it. Unfortunately, he’s coming out of one at the moment…it’s already lasted about four weeks, hasn’t it, Philippe?
That’s partly why I came here in the first place. I’ve learned to keep away at a certain point. It’s best for our marriage, otherwise the good bits will become sullied by something which is beyond everyone’s control.’
Some innate sense of wisdom told Bianca not to utter a word. She therefore nodded sympathetically, fixing her gaze on Amanda, who was revealing an intense side of herself that she had never suspected existed beneath that cool and rather prim exterior.
Returning to Philippe, Amanda continued: ‘This whole business of the baby has been so unexpected. I telephoned Raoul Goldman, just to keep in touch really…he’s the lawyer who found our son… and Begonia and Raymond’s children,’ Amanda said as an aside to Bianca before turning her attention back to her husband’s business partner, ‘and he said he had this day-old baby girl. The couple earmarked for her didn’t want her when they discovered her father is half-Jewish…can you believe it? He knew I wanted a daughter eventually and asked me if I was interested. And this, Bianca, is where things get a bit tricky. I telephoned my husband…I was hoping he’s have turned the corner and been open to reason…but we didn’t even touch upon the purpose of the call, because it was so obvious that he has not yet returned to his normal self. You know what I mean about Ferdie when he’s in that frame of mind, don’t you, Philippe?’
‘You did the right thing in not broaching the subject until he’s in better shape,’ he said reassuringly. ‘It really isn’t possible to get through to him when he’s in this condition.’
‘I thought I’d go and see the baby. Well, it was love at first sight. She was mine from the moment I saw her. No doubt about it. She was already my daughter. I loved her as much as if I’d just given birth to her myself. The bonding was instantaneous. I could not imagine, having seen her, how I could live my life without her. Raoul was with me, and I agreed there and then to adopt her. He’s processing the papers, and I’ll take her back to Mexico next week. I only hope Ferdie doesn’t throw a fit. He’s the most easygoing man normally, Bianca, but he does get bees in his bonnet, and once he does, there’s no changing his mind. He has a thing about control and respect. I know he’s not going to be pleased that I’ve gone ahead and got the baby without his knowledge or consent. I only hope he’ll understand how the situation developed and not hold it against the baby. He’s such a good father to Manolito. He absolutely worships him. And to think I was worried before we adopted him that his feelings would be affected by the way we came to have the baby.’
‘He also loves you totally,’ Philippe said. ‘Even if his nose is out of joint for a while, I’m sure any damage done will be superficial, not fundamental. You might have a rough two weeks, but I predict things will blow over.’
‘That’s what I’m banking on,’ said Amanda.
Chapter Eight
‘You what?’ Ferdie exploded, moving menacingly towards Amanda. ‘You what? What did you say you did?’
Amanda trembled. She had never felt such overwhelming fear in all her life. ‘Ferdie, if you’d just look at her, I know you’ll love her.’
‘Look at her? Are you crazy, woman? Why would I look at her? She’s not my child. She’s never going to be my child. Why would I want to look at her?’
‘She’s as much our child as Manolito…’
‘Oh no, she’s not. Manolito is my son, our son. She’s not my daughter. She’s your daughter. You want her: you keep her. But let me make one thing clear…I am not having a daughter foisted upon me.’
‘Ferdie, please…be reasonable…’
‘Be reasonable? That’s rich coming from you. You go shopping in New York and come back with a baby your husband knows nothing about, and you tell me to be reasonable. Your problem, Amanda, is that you’ve got too big for your boots. I’ve made you too secure. You’ve grown so overconfident that you think you can go behind my back and adopt a baby just because you want it. What about me? What about what I want? You didn’t even consult me.’
‘Ferdie, if only we could take things more calmly…’
‘Calmly? How many men would take having a child foisted upon them calmly? You tell me that, Amanda.’
‘I had to make up my mind there and then. Raoul couldn’t wait for me to come back home and speak to you about it…’
‘And you couldn’t phone me, I suppose…’
‘I did, Ferdie, but you were in such a vicious mood…’
‘Vicious mood? That’s what you think of me when you’re simpering and whimpering and beating around the bush…? Woman, I knew you were trying to work your way around me…I’m not your husband for nothing…I can tell when you’re dancing around trying to get your own way, instead of giving me a clean clear choice…’
‘Please, Ferdie. Please. Let’s not argue. I love you and would never do anything I thought would really upset you…’
‘I notice your use of the word “really”. So it’s fine for you to upset me slightly? To take advantage of me slightly? To use me slightly? What we’re talking about is the degree of liberty you’ve given yourself. That’s what we’re talking about here.’
‘You’re twisting what I said. I didn’t mean it like that…’
‘You meant it like that, all right, Amanda. What you didn’t mean was for me to find you out. You’ve overstepped the mark. You’d taken advantage of me. You’ve disrespected my rights as a husband and as a human being. This isn’t something that we can paper over. There’s a larger issue at stake here. Superficially, it’s about the baby, but beneath that, it’s about whether I’m to suck salt and pander to a woman who’s now so puffed up with her own importance that she thinks she can impose her desires and her will upon me.’
‘I can’t believe you really mean any of what you’re saying. You have to know that I’m not like that.’
‘All I know is that you’ve begun to believe your own publicity. You remind me of some B-grade movie actress from Hollywood who thinks she’s so popular that she can rub the studio chief’s nose in the mire.’
‘Ferdie, please… Please…I’m begging you… Please try to understand that I didn’t intend to disrespect your wishes or desires. Why would I? I love you. We have a happy marriage. We have a wonderful family life… I honestly thought I was adding to our happiness. I concede that I haven’t handled things well…’
‘You must have realized that your actions would cause a problem…’
‘Well, I was nervous about how you’d take the news…’
‘Now you know. I’m outraged that you could have taken my life and my destiny into your hands without so much as a word to me.’
‘What can I do to make things better?’
‘Send the baby back.’
Amanda felt her blood run cold. Instantaneously, she started to shiver.
‘You don’t mean that,’ she said.
‘I do.’
‘You can’t mean that.’
‘I can, and I do.’
Amanda started to sob. ‘No, Ferdie, no, you can’t…That’s the cruellest thing you could do… Please…please… Say you don’t mean it…’
‘I mean it, Amanda,’ Ferdie said coldly. ‘If you value our marriage, you’ll send that baby back.’
For three days Amanda looked for a sign that Ferdie was softening. She tried affection to no avail. Sex to no avail. Showing the baby to Raymond and Begonia, who came for dinner at the end of the third day she was back in Mexico City, to no avail. Ferdie simply walked out of the drawing-room as soon as she appeared with little Anna Clara. He didn’t make a point of departing, so th
e Mahfuds did not realize that anything was amiss, but he nevertheless did not return until the baby had been taken back to the nursery.
By this time Ferdie was no longer occupying the marital bed. He had moved out without warning or discussion and taken up occupancy of one of the guest bedrooms the night of the baby’s arrival. Amanda had no choice but to confront the fact that Ferdie’s obstinacy and pride might well prevent him from ever relenting. As she turned things over in her mind, she believed that the only hopeful sign was that he had not mentioned anything about separation or divorce. It was a straw to clutch at, but only a straw, for he had withdrawn emotionally and sexually, and Amanda saw the evidence of it everywhere.
Although she was hopeful that Ferdie would return to her bed once he had calmed down, as she looked back on the last few days, she found his reactions dispiriting. ‘I’m not going to let my pride get in the way,’ she told herself on the second night of their separation and had gone into the bedroom where he was sleeping and tried to snuggle up to him, hoping that one thing would lead to another and that they would effect a complete reconciliation through the reestablishment of conjugal relations.
Ferdie, however, had pulled himself away from her in such a manner that she was made to feel unclean.
Amanda knew Ferdie better than anyone else, so she gave him time to calm down and start to miss her during the next seventy-two hours. On the evening of the fourth day after her return she decided she must try again, but when she attempted to open the door to the bedroom Ferdie was using she found it was locked. This alarmed her, for he had raised the drawbridge and had made himself inaccessible in a way he had never done before. These were oppressive days for Amanda, but they were not without their consolations. Anna Clara was a truly adorable baby: beautiful, goodnatured and everything a mother could ask for. Manolito was also captivated by her, which was a relief, for coping with a jealous toddler would have been too much.
Amanda received her first glimmer of hope when Manolito dragged Ferdie into the nursery and showed him Anna Clara. Amanda stood by silently, her heart in her mouth, as Manolito encouraged his father to touch the baby. Anna Clara, who only cried if she was hungry or dirty, kicked her little legs sweetly and grabbed onto Ferdie’s finger. Manolito, touched, kissed the baby, then his father, babbling away happily, utilizing the few sounds he could make as if they were a language everyone, especially his father and mother, could understand.
Empress Bianca Page 14
