Her Lover (7 page)

Hidden once more behind the curtains, he watched admiringly as she reappeared, tall, with that marvellous face and that incredible figure, in a noble evening gown. Shadowed by her undulating train, she walked proudly round the room and from time to time darted furtive glances at the mirror.

'The most beautiful woman in the world,' she declared, and she approached the mirror, made a tender, pouting face and stood for some time gazing at herself with her mouth half open, which made her look surprised, even slightly crazed. 'Yes awfully beautiful in every department,' she concluded. 'Though that nose is a shade large, perhaps? Not at all. It's just right. Now for the Himalayas. On with the secret Tibetan headgear.'

Returning from the bathroom, wearing a Scots tarn which did not go at all with the evening gown, she strode around her bedroom with the deliberate, heavy tread of the experienced climber.

'Well, here we are on the lovely old maternal mountains of the Himalayas, I'm scaling the heights of the land of night. It's empty of humans and here the last gods live on mountain-tops buffeted by awesome winds. Yes, the Himalayas are my motherland. Om mani padme houm! O jewel in the lotus! That's the set form of worship which we Tibetan Buddhists use. But here's Lake Yamirok or Yamrok, the biggest lake in Tibet! May the Gods be victorious! Lhai gyalo! Ah! prayer-flags: let us bow our head in reverence before them! Oh dear, I'm quite out of breath, a six-hour trek in this thin air, I can't go another step! Mind you, the ghastly side to being a Tibetan woman is that you're required to have several husbands. I've got four, which means four sets of gargling before bed, four sets of snores during the night and four times the Tibetan national anthem in
the morning. One of these days I shall divorce all of my husbands. Oh, but I don't feel right, not right at all.'

She walked to and fro, arms crossed and hands on shoulders, crooning a lugubrious lullaby to herself, delighting in exaggerating its inaner flights, trying out a silly walk with her toes turned inwards. She halted in front of the mirror and pretended to be old and senile: eyes big and round, mouth wide open, tongue hanging out and toes still turned in. Having paid herself back, she smiled, became beautiful once more, put her Scots tam away, stretched out on the bed, closed her eyes, and began to day-dream.

'That's it! I'll settle myself with my old trick, here goes I'm knocking my head against the wall, crash, bash, that's good, and again ... harder, faster, head against the wall, like a cannon-ball, bang, that's the stuff, head's a bit cracked, but it's doing me good, very relaxing, ah that's better, great! nobody in the house but me, I'm free till this evening, I wonder if my toad will be better soon, he wasn't up to much this morning, that's it I'll put some more iodine on him, poor little thing so sweet so patient, he never complains but it must sting it can't be helped, when Mummy puts that nasty iodine on your leg it's for your own good, he's still so weak, I'll give him something to eat to build him up, I'll take him out into the garden with me when I've had my rest after lunch, you'll like that see if you don't, we'll have tea together, we'll have a picnic on the grass, or perhaps I'll become a fierce lion-tamer, I step into the cage wearing boots an intimidating crack of the whip my masterful eyes flashing fire and the twelve petrified lions back away like stags at bay oops make that beasts of prey and then the fantastic burst of applause, or better still a conductor standing sublimely in front of an orchestra and everyone claps and I barely acknowledge the applause I just stand there a bit disdainfully and then walk off looking very blase, only it's not true, when I was ten or eleven I had to get up at seven o'clock so that I'd be at school at eight but I would set the alarm for six so that I'd have time for the heroic soldier I used to imagine I was nursing, I'll take a couple of aspireens, the two e's are to ease, they'll make me sleep, right? right, darling girl, but you are my little sweetie yes you is, don't need no old aspireens I'm sleepy enough, oh lovely it's dark, I can hardly see a thing, I love the dark, I feel closer to myself when it's almost pitch black, it's very nice in bed, by stretching my legs out right and left in my own bed I can feel what it's like to be by myself without lovey-dovey hubby, I have a feeling I shall go to sleep tonight in my evening dress, can't be helped, the thing is to get off to sleep, when you're asleep you aren't unhappy, poor Didi's sweet though, the other day he was all smiles when he brought me that diamond bracelet, but I was nice too I didn't tell him I don't like diamonds, very sweet but he keeps touching me all the time it's very irritating, I can move my arms and legs now but later on I'll be trapped in a coffin and there's earth above me can't breathe start choking, can't see how anyone can believe in the immortality of the soul, what's the use of having all those ministers of religion in the family? let's pretend there are ten pretty little koalas here in my room fast asleep in their cots with their little paws crossed over their chests and their lovely big noses looking so nice, I gave them all their eucalyptus leaves for supper before I put them to bed, I can't keep my eyes open it's the veronal I took last night still in my system I took too much, I ought at least to take off my pretty white satin slippers, but it can't be helped, too tired too sleepy, I can keep them on they won't bother me, that's enough talk now, good-night darling me, sweet dreams.'

CHAPTER 3

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she shivered in her evening gown. A madman, she was in a locked bedroom with a madman and the madman had the key. Should she call for help? No point: no one else in the house. He had stopped talking now. He was standing with his back to her in front of the swing-mirror, observing himself in his long greatcoat and the fur hat which was pulled down over his ears.

She shuddered. She saw that he was looking at her in the mirror now, smiling at her as he stroked that awful white beard. His pensive stroking was horrible. His toothless smile was horrible. No, don't be afraid. He himself had said she had nothing to fear, that he only wished to talk to her and then he would go. Even so, he was a madman and might be dangerous. He turned round abruptly and she sensed he was about to speak. That's it, pretend to listen as though you're interested.

'One evening at the Ritz, an evening decreed by Destiny, on the occasion of the Brazilian reception, I saw you for the very first time and loved you at once,' he said, and again he smiled his dark smile where two fangs gleamed. 'But how was it that I, poor and old as I am, should be present at such a glittering affair? I was simply there as a waiter, a waiter in the employ of the Ritz, serving drinks to ministers and ambassadors, a rabble of men who were once my kind in the days when I was young and rich and powerful, the days before my fall and slide into poverty. And on that evening decreed by Destiny at the Ritz, she appeared unto me, noble in the midst of the ignoble did she appear, awesome in her beauty, she and I and no one else in the crowd of smart operators and attention-seekers who were once my kind, we two alone were exiles, she as lonely as I and as heartsick and disdainful as I and talking to no one, having no friend but herself, but at the first flutter of those eyes I knew her. It was She, the Unexpected One so long awaited, revealed as the Chosen One on that evening decreed by Destiny, proclaimed by the first flutter of her long curved lashes. She, divine Bokhara, favoured Samarkand, an embroidery of intricate pattern. And who is She? Why, you!'

He stopped, looked at her, and once more there came that toothless smile, the abject badge of old age. She controlled the trembling in her legs, lowered her eyes so that she would not have to see that horrible, adoring smile. Endure it, say nothing, pretend to be sympathetic.

'Other men take weeks, months before they fall in love, and even then they love but tepidly, nor can they dispense with endless talk, shared tastes and crystallizations. All I needed was one flutter of her eyelashes. Say I am mad, but believe me. A flutter of lashes, and she looked at me but did not see me, and suddenly I beheld the glory of spring and the sun and the warm sea and the transparency of water near the shore and my youth restored and the world fresh-minted, and I knew that no one before her, not Adrienne nor Aude nor Isolde nor any who peopled my splendour and youth, I knew that they had merely prepared a way for her and were her handmaidens. No one came before her nor will come after her, I swear it on the Scrolls of the Holy Law when in solemn state they pass before me in the synagogue, arrayed in gold and velvet, the Holy Commandments of the God in whom I do not believe but revere, for I am absurdly proud of my God, God of Abraham and of Isaac, God of Jacob, and I thrill to my very core when I hear His name and His words.

'But now listen and you shall hear a marvel. Wearying of the ignoble crowd, she fled the room and the chatter of the seekers of contacts and sought voluntary exile in a small adjoining antechamber which was deserted. Who is She? Why, you! A voluntary exile like myself, and she did not know that I was behind the curtains watching her. Then, and listen well now, she went up to the mirror that hung in that antechamber, for she has a mania for looking-glasses as I do, it is the mania of sad and lonely people, and, alone and unaware that she was observed, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the glass of the mirror. Our first kiss, my love. O my mad sister, loved at first sight, transformed into my beloved by that kiss administered by herself unto herself. Oh how tall and slender. Oh those long curved lashes in the mirror! and my soul flew out and clung to her long curved lashes. A flutter of eyes, the space of a kiss in a mirror, and she was revealed for ever. Say I am mad, but believe me. And that was all. When she had returned to the crowded room, I did not approach her, I did not speak to her, I did not wish to treat her like the others.

'Now hear another of her splendours. Late one afternoon, weeks later, I followed her along the shore of the lake. I saw her pause and talk to an old horse harnessed to a cart. She talked to it earnestly, considerately, my mad mistress, as though to a kindly uncle, and the old horse nodded its head sagely. Then it started to rain. She rummaged in the back of the cart and produced a canvas sheet which she threw over the old horse with such gestures, the gestures of a young mother. And then, listen carefully, she kissed the old horse on the neck and said, must have said, for I know her, my brilliant, crazy love, she must have said, indeed said that she was sorry but she had to go because she was expected back at home. But don't fret, she must have said, she said, your master will come soon and you'll soon be out of the rain in a lovely warm stable. Goodbye, darling, she must have said, she said, for I know her. And she walked away with pity in her heart, pity for that poor docile old creature which did what it was bid without protest, went where its master ordered and would even go to Spain if its master so commanded. Goodbye, darling, she said, for I know her.

'Day after day from that evening decreed by Destiny forth, such longing for her. Oh She of All Charms. How tall and slender and marvellous of face. Oh eyes of gold-flecked mist, eyes set too far apart, those thoughtful corners of her mouth and her lips heavy with pity and intelligence, oh She whom I love. The way she smiled, like a retarded little girl, when I hid behind the curtains of her bedroom and observed her and came to know her secret follies, a Himalayan mountain-climber wearing a tam with a cock's feather in it, queen of beasts which she took out of a cardboard box, revelling in her absurdities as I did, O my clever one, my sister, intended by fate to be mine alone, meant for me, blessed be your mother, your beauty unmans me. Oh the tender madness and terrifying joy when you look at me, the intoxication when you look at me. Oh night! Oh this love of mine inside me, eternally enclosed within me and perpetually released so that I may contemplate it, and then folded away once more and shut up and kept in my heart. Oh she who permeates my sleeping hours, so loving when I sleep, her tender complicity in my sleep. Oh she whose name I write with my finger in the air or, when I am alone, inscribe on paper. I doodle her name, carefully retaining all the letters, and I jumble them and make up Tahitian names, names for all her charms, Rianea, Eniraa, Raneia, Aneira, Neiraa, Niaera, Ireana, Enaira, all the names of my love.

'Oh she whose sacred name I speak during my solitary walks and patrols around the house where she sleeps, for I watch over her as she sleeps, and she does not know that I watch, and I speak her name in secret to the trees, and I tell them, for I am mad for her long curved lashes, that I am in love, that I love the woman I love who will love me too, for I love her as no one else could, and why should she not love me back, she who can truly love a toad, and she will love me, love me, love me, the paragon will love me, and each evening I shall wait yearningly for the moment when I shall see her again and I shall make myself handsome to please her, and I shall shave, shave myself so close to please her, I shall bathe, bathe for an age to make the time pass more quickly, and all the time I shall think of her, and soon it will be time, oh the wonder of it, the snatches of song in the car which will carry me to her, to she who waits for me, towards her long star-spangled lashes, and the soon look, the look in her eyes when I stand before her, she waiting at her door, tall and slender and dressed all in white, ready and beautiful for me, ready and fearful lest she mar her beauty if I should delay, and darting to her mirror to view her beauty, to see if her beauty is still there, still intact, and then returning to the door and waiting for me in a cloud of love, heart-stoppingly standing at her door under the roses, oh tender night! Oh youth that is mine once more! Oh the wonder when I stand before her! the look in her eyes! the love we share! and she shall lower her head to my extended hand, a simple country-girl now, and oh the wonder of her kiss upon my hand! and she shall look up at me and our eyes shall light up with love and we shall smile at loving so, you and I, and glory be to God.'