Objects of Desire (28 page)

‘I was drowning but not in the water – in sexual bliss as he moved me on and off him. He floated on his back with me on top straddling him, he was fucking me by
raising and lowering me on and off his rock-hard penis. He was throbbing inside me, holding me very still with one hand while the Aegean waves rolled over us and caressed my breasts, my back, and bottom. Then he spoke to me for the first time.

‘ “You’re a gift from God. I’ve been waiting all my life for you.”

‘And you know, I knew it was true. And although I didn’t know it before, I knew at that moment that I had all my life been waiting for him to find me. We came together and I had never known sexual intercourse like that ever. That was when the bell tolled for us. Alone in the sea, swimming in our own come, in that remote place we found ourselves. We had left everything behind. Our personae, our lives as we had been living them, even our clothes. All thought of yesterday or tomorrow.

‘We stayed together there in that little house, that secret place, for five days and five nights. I had brought some books with me: the Greek Myths, Robert Graves, Shakespeare’s Sonnets, Marcel Proust. We read to each other and swam in the sea and ate from the orchard and all of the little food I had in the house. We fished from his caique, that he had sailed from Hydra in and had anchored in the next bay.’

‘That same caique that you still have in Hydra?’ asked Sally.

‘Yes, the very same one. We sailed along the coast in it and fished for our dinner. We almost never wore clothes, wanting always to take each other whenever
sex took our fancy. The more we fucked, the better it got for us. An erotic world opened up for us. We were wholly besotted with one another. The erotic extreme became the norm for us. It was unbelievably physical.’

At this point Page interrupted herself and asked, ‘This doesn’t embarrass you, my talking so frankly about the sexual impact we had upon each other? If it does I can stop, but there’s no other way I can explain our story.’

Sex had never been a taboo subject between the women. They had many times talked about it between them, but up to now never as explicitly and always in guarded terms. Now that they had come so far together, they told Page to speak frankly, assuring her they had all at one time or another wanted to be more explicit when confiding in each other.

So Page did continue. ‘As I said, the physical aspect of our coming together was overwhelming. He had only to look at me and he was lost. You could actually see it in not only his face but every fibre of his body, sense it in his soul. I was all that he could ever want, I excited him beyond all reason. If you think it was any different for me, you’re mistaken.

‘Just to look at him at any given moment was to make my heart beat fast. I would look away from him to try and break the spell. Impossible. I would have to look back at him. There was something more than the sensual about him, there was a passionate nature that drew me to him. It was something beatific, a youthful innocence. I fell in love, at once and forever. I’m telling
you about our beginnings and what we meant to each other now because I feel exactly the same way about him all these years later.

‘Finally we ran out of all supplies in the little house. We put on some clothes. He had a pair of old worn chinos and a white batiste shirt, a pair of leather sandals. We sailed up the coast to the village, dropped anchor and walked from the beach the short distance into the old town. Even with clothes on he had a special kind of charisma that was inexplicable. Men would talk to him, follow us, offer us gifts of food, any help they could. We picked up a trail of children and the women, normally reticent with strangers, would speak to me and ask about him. His Greek was perfect, a joy to hear spoken, a scholar’s Greek, not your average man in the street’s Greek such as I spoke.

‘Several days after we had returned from our trip to the village, he told me, “I’ve never loved a woman as I love you. I will never love any other woman as I will love you.” I knew that he was telling me the truth. “Tell me all about you. I want to know everything: what you were like when you were a little girl, how and where you grew up. Your first love, your first sexual experience, the men you loved, the men who loved you. I know there have been many, and I want to know why you never loved them as you love me. I wish that I had been with you from the moment that you were born. I would have liked to have been a part of your skin then as I have become now.”

‘I told him my story, he told me his. Incredibly I was
neither shocked nor disturbed to find that he was a Roman Catholic priest. It’s difficult to explain how that could be. It was probably because it didn’t affect how we were living together, the way we felt about each other. Whether there was going to be a future for us together or there wasn’t didn’t come into it. We just knew that something had happened to us called love and that we were together and that it would work out. Whatever way it worked out, we were richer and better, more alive for having been together. He told me he had no anxiety about breaking his vow, about loving a woman more than Jesus Christ.

‘But having no anxiety about breaking his vow of celibacy does not mean that he did not have many conflicts with himself and his role in the church. By then I knew who he was. His name and what he represented were familiar to me. He did have, at the time we met, some celebrity as a result of his writing but not nearly the fame he does now. Who and what he was didn’t seem to divide us in any way. We continued our life exactly as it had been before we revealed ourselves to each other.

‘Another week passed and he took me home to Hydra. We sailed away from our cove and the Peloponnesos. Were we leaving behind this romantic idyll, the erotic world we’d created for ourselves, this earthly but not quite earthly place? Were we sad to leave it? Not a bit, we knew we were taking it with us. We were excited about the future, about landing in Hydra and living together on the island in the romantic ruin he
had bought. It never occurred to me to be concerned that I was living with a priest.

‘It was as wonderful living with him in Hydra as it had been in that little hidden cove and the white house with blue shutters. We never lost the magic. We wore clothes more often, that was the greatest difference. We saw people and spoke to them, not hiding the love that we had for each other from them. Some knew he was a man of the church, others didn’t. It didn’t stop us taking the caique out, shedding our clothes and diving into the sea on the far side of the island where we had our privacy. Nor did it stop our nights and days of unbridled sex in his ruin of a house overlooking the port. His house had become our house. We planned its future rather than our own.

‘The ghost visited us one night when we were way out over the top sexually. Actually it was at that moment just after we had come together in a powerful and long orgasm that stole every vestige of control from us, leaving us to scream into the night for help so that we might not linger too long in that moment of little death and be unable to revive ourselves. He wrapped himself round us and wept with joy and we imagined we heard the words: “You’ve come home.” I never saw the captain’s ghost again after that night.

‘Eventually you always have to leave the island of your dreams. And we did, together. I for my Park Avenue shop in New York, he for a monastery in central America. That year we were together whenever it was possible, and the following year, and our
love grew stronger. Our sexual hunger for each other never diminished. Every meeting, every sexual encounter, was a confirmation of the strength we had to be true to ourselves. For our second anniversary he gave me the deeds to the house in Hydra.

‘The following year we had two months together. Fame was taking him over. Christ and his work had been his life until I had come along, and we both knew that I too was part of his life now. I could live with his devotion to the church but the church could not live with his devotion to me. Oscar and I gave each other our freedom to live our lives outside the one we lived together because we loved each other and could never make light of each other’s needs. That only drew us closer together. Each of us knew we had to work out our life for ourself and that ultimately that was what would determine our future.

‘Finally we came to a decision to part. Not see each other at all nor communicate for a given length of time was the plan. He wanted to return to the church alone, without being influenced by his love for me, to make his decision to remain in the priesthood or to leave it once and forever because he could not in truth and heart be the man of the cloth that Roman Catholicism demanded he be. We gave ourselves seven years to get on with life without each other. If at any time during those seven years he came to terms with leaving the church, he would return to the house in Hydra and to me.

‘We both knew that he had an enormously important work to complete, a church to obey, and unless he
accomplished those things to the best of his ability, all would be lost for us. We made a pact. I would be in the house in Hydra for three weeks, those same three weeks every year. During that time, if he had resolved his conflicts, he would return to claim me and his house. I could wait. But he wouldn’t allow me to promise that. The only promise he would allow me to make was that I should be in the Hydra house during those three weeks. If during his absence I were to find someone to love more than him, I was to send word through his publisher that I would not be in Hydra. If that were to happen he wanted the house to be mine. This is my fifth return to Hydra for my vigil.’

‘Do you think he’ll be there?’ asked Sally.

‘I have never asked myself that question. I just go there and enjoy myself and think about him, sometimes pretending that he’s there with me. Crazy? Well, love is crazy, I can attest to that.’

‘Hence your rush to get back to Hydra,’ said Anoushka.

Page began to laugh. ‘As if one day would make a difference! Who’s to know, maybe it will.’

Chapter 17

The speed boat inched itself away from the dock. With a thrust of the motors it rose up in the water to cut a wide arc and aim towards the
Black Orchid
anchored about a quarter of a mile offshore. Anoushka, Page and Sally were standing aft, gripping tight the cross bar, all eyes on their greatest adventure yet, the boat they would sail across the Atlantic. They exchanged looks with each other, smiling broadly. The speed of the boat, the spray of the sea shooting past them, the black schooner with terracotta-coloured sails tied to three masts. It was all very exciting. Here was the beginning of their challenge of a lifetime.

Anoushka shouted above the din of the motors, the wind and the spray coming off the sea, ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’

The three women began to laugh, forgot safety and let go of the cross bar to hug each other, almost immediately losing their balance and falling all over each other. Hands went instantly back on to the cross bar. Page shouted above the noise, ‘We’ll make it! We’ll do it! Oh, she’s such a beauty lying there in the sun
just waiting for us. Sally, we owe thanks to you for this. I wouldn’t miss sailing her across the Atlantic for anything. Watch out world, the adventure is on!’

Sally shouted back, ‘Piers’s guilt, that’s what we can thank!’ And all three laughed again. Anoushka for once not taking the remark, as she took any remark about Piers, as personal, since his declaration of love for her.

On board they were greeted by the captain and his crew. The skipper of the schooner was straight with them. ‘You do realise, ladies, you will have to be very good – better than good – top-notch sailors before I will turn this boat over to you for the crossing? You will have to know every inch of her, every instrument and how it works, the feel of every rope, how to handle every sail. This boat will have to be part of you, your very heart and soul. And what about the ocean and the winds? You have to have a feel for them. To master the boat is one thing, but master the ocean? The Atlantic is its own master, it would be good to remember that. In fact, you might take that as your first lesson.’

‘You don’t think we can do it,’ said Page.

‘I didn’t say that, ma’am.’

‘But you’re thinking it. I can assure you, we will. We three women
will
sail
Black Orchid
across the Atlantic and into the Caribbean Sea.’

The look she received from the captain and his crew made her smile. She told them, ‘We may look like cream puffs to you at the moment, and not at all the part, but we will. And not only that, we’ll
be
the part.’

It was true they hardly looked like young salts in training to challenge the Atlantic in the same chic clothes they had left Lakeside in, and bare feet. Each of them holding a pair of Maude Frizon shoes in their hands, Hermès handbags slung over their shoulders, Sally with a massive gem on her finger. The captain smiled. Page could do that to a man, make him melt, look beyond reason. She charmed him into an admission.

‘I can assure you, Miss Cooper —’

‘Page,’ she insisted with a smile.

‘— Page, with character and a will of steel, hard work as a priority, a quick mind and better than good reflexes, all of which I am guessing you have in abundance, you will be drinking champagne in the Caribbean.’

Smiles appeared on everyone’s faces. Arms shot out and hands were now shaking others in a real welcome on board. The air had been cleared, everyone understood each other.

Clothes that were appropriate for crewing were already below in the ladies’ cabins, having been sent ahead before they left for the States. Sally and Anoushka went below to change. Page remained with the captain and crew above, walking the deck, admiring the beauty and condition of
Black Orchid
.

‘It will be difficult for you and your crew, going as ballast instead of sailing her across the Atlantic, Captain. We don’t need resentment with all we have to learn,’ she said.

‘I hope that I’m right in thinking that’s more a plea for help rather than an insinuation that we’ll not do our best for you all, Page?’

‘Yes, I think you could say that. Now let’s presume you find us as seaworthy as your boat. Up to taking over
Black Orchid
and sailing her, three women, across the Atlantic. The real challenge for us would be if you let us make this voyage on our own, and you and the crew flew over to the Caribbean and met us there.’

The men standing round her looked appalled. ‘No way, Page, no way. Don’t even think it. It would be foolhardy. To sail the Atlantic a crew needs years of experience. She’s a lot of boat to handle, and she’s not yours. Remember your arrangement with Piers. You sail her, we watch. No interference, ballast you may call us, but we’re there. And if at any time I think lives or the boat are in danger you can’t handle, I take over. I hope that settles it?’

‘Those are your only criteria?’

‘You have my word.’

Page stuck out her hand and shook the captain’s. ‘You can’t blame a girl for trying. Under the same circumstances you would have done the same, now wouldn’t you? All of you?’

The captain was once more charmed by her. A hint of a smile crossed his lips. Fortunately Anoushka and Sally were back on deck and joining them in time for him to escape having to answer Page.

It was another celebration and all Anoushka kept
thinking of was how right Jahangir had been. The party does go on. Lunch, as ordered by Piers over the telephone from wherever he was, was smoked salmon sandwiches and champagne, served on deck with his compliments. There had been no other word for Anoushka. Piers was holding to his resolve. For that she was relieved, having still not sorted out her guilt about Sally’s feelings via-à-vis Anoushka and Piers being together.

‘I understand that you have to go, Page, But I wish you could stay. That we were all starting off together.’

‘There’s so much to learn, Anoushka, I know that. But I’ll catch up with you once I’m on board. We’ll still have nearly four months to sail together, to get it right. I won’t let you down.’

‘I wasn’t thinking that you would. You have to go, I understand that, but I wish you could stay or I wish we could go with you. Now that we know the facts, I can’t help but think, as Sally does, that it’s a lonely vigil you’ll be keeping.’

The plane buzzed the schooner and all faces turned up towards the sky, hands shading eyes. It circled once more and then landed on the water and taxied towards
Black Orchid
. All joy and excitement vanished from Sally and Anoushka’s faces as the pilot cut his motors and the crew caught the plane’s tow line and held it fast. Everyone was at the rail watching the plane bobbing up and down in the water, the waves slapping hard against the pontoons. The women hadn’t spoken for some time, having been distracted by the business of
holding the sea plane in tow for Page to board.

She turned to face her girlfriends. ‘What, sad faces? Now, now, what’s this?’

‘I can’t bear it if he’s not there,’ said Anoushka.

‘I never think that way. I’m not a woman who tortures herself over a man, no matter how much I love him and want him. I never have been, never will.’

‘Then why are you going back alone?’

‘Probably because I never had friends like you before to come with me. Because I made a vow to myself and to a man I love that I would be there during these next three weeks. And mostly because I want to. I have faith, complete and utter faith in myself, in Oscar, in what is right and what is wrong for us. Ever since I met him, he has done nothing but add to my life. So, please, no sad faces for me. You two work hard and learn well, and I’ll join you when you sail into Hydra and begin my tuition then. We have an ocean to cross, a great adventure, and we all three of us are going to be ready for it.’

She made haste to kiss Anoushka and Sally. Then she turned to speak to the captain, who had with his crew heard most of what had been said between the women. Rather than looking embarrassed, he looked admiringly at her.

‘Thank you, Captain, for your hospitality. Take care of my friends for me. Not the best of jobs, training three ambitious ladies with a quest to fulfil. I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. But we won’t let you down. Why, you might even get to like the job! I look
forward to coming on board for my training when you arrive in Hydra.’

One of the crew went ahead, descending the ladder followed by Page and then another crewman. The first sailor jumped on to the pontoon, opened the plane’s door, and then held out a hand for Page, who stepped gingerly from the boat ladder to join him. The water was choppy. The sailor held her steady with an arm round her waist, the co-pilot appeared at the open door and extended a hand. Page grabbed it and found the foot hole on the side, stepped into it, and was helped up into the plane that was to fly her directly to Hydra.

Seconds later the plane was drifting away from
Black Orchid
even before its door was closed. The tow lines having been pulled on board by the co-pilot, the plane’s motors sputtered to life. It taxied bumpily through the waves to clear the boat before it picked up speed. Sally and Anoushka stood at the rail watching the plane shimmy and shake as it cut through the sea and then slowly achieve lift off and a climb at a gentle angle into the sky.

‘Impossible love, impossible choices for both of them. How could they have concocted such a heart-breaking plan? How could our sensible, lovely Page have become involved with that? From where does she gather her strength for such an unachievable love?’ asked Anoushka of Sally.

‘Not strength, faith. She’s solid with faith is our Page. It’s her belief in something more than life itself that gives her the strength to love like that. When I
lived with Piers I never had it. I wouldn’t have understood it even if I had had it, but now that I’m with Jahangir, I do.’

She looked at her ring sparkling in the sunlight. Anoushka could not help but smile. She patted Sally on the shoulder and took her hand and held it up to have a better look at the ring.

‘He’s done you proud there, Sally.’

‘He always does us proud, doesn’t he?’

The two women looked again across the water and then scanned the sky for any sign of the plane and Page. Nothing.

‘We’ll call her tonight,’ suggested Anoushka.

‘No. If she wants us she knows how to reach us,’ said Sally.

‘Do you think he’ll show up?’

‘Does it matter? She’s living her life the way she wants to, and he’s there in it, the only way he can be. That’s good enough for Page, and so it has to be good enough for us. I wouldn’t venture a guess. If Page is happy with what she has of him, then what does it matter if he shows up or not? Now we’d better start learning how to sail this tub,’ said Sally, punching Anoushka playfully on her arm.

Long after she flew away from the schooner, Page kept thinking about Anoushka, Sally and herself. They had come a long way together. Had she understood when the three had first met how serious their emotional troubles had been? Only now in retrospect could she
really understand the despair that had taken over each of their lives. All because of men who were through with them.

It was not returning to Hydra and the house, the waiting for Oscar, that made her think about women cast off like worn-out clothes by their great loves, who could, for whatever the reason, no longer sustain a life with them. It was Dr Robert Rivers that made Page think of them. Dr Robert Rivers and his cruelty to Anoushka because he loved another woman and had been unable to make a life with her. Page had gone along to support her and was not in the least sorry for having done so. She could see the positive effect confronting a return had had on Anoushka, but there had also been something haunting, a kind of ugly aura that had hovered over that unhappy triangle of Robert, Rosamond and Anoushka that Page found disturbing. The only really negative factor in Anoushka’s return.

Page sighed. Relief? Yes, that she had escaped anything as soul-destroying as the past Anoushka was still and probably would always be living with. Page had no doubts that Anoushka would carry the scars of Robert’s cruelty, the sexual manipulation-cum-love she had been indoctrinated in by Serge, forever.

To see Sally and Jahangir was a joy, but would the scars inflicted by a man who threw her out vanish for good? When Page had first met Sally, she too had been cast off by someone she loved and had built an entire existence around. She had done nothing to deserve
having her lifestyle torn away from her. To have been a convenience rather than a man’s love – how humiliating. Needing to have a man who is through with you pick up the pieces of your life and find a way for your survival because you are too beaten up to construct anything for yourself. Serious abuse, utter defeat.

Page covered her face with her hands in despair for what her friends had been through, and for the millions of other women much less fortunate even than Anoushka and Sally who had suffered the same humiliations, defeats, destruction of self-esteem, in the name of love or worse, just to keep a man tied to them.

And what of herself? She had placed that ad in the
International Herald Tribune
, not because she was so wounded by a man but because she was so loved by one. Impossible love does not necessarily mean pain. No, she had not suffered pain as her friends had, merely a deep loneliness that none of the men she had been with since Oscar had been able to assuage, no matter how much they had tried, what good times she had had with them. A lady alone who needed adventure and the companionship of other women of like mind was what she had become so she could leave behind those that filled her life but were not love, just men.

Anoushka, Page and Sally pulled each other up by the boot straps from where they had been, strangers who had become best friends and somehow through each other learned about love, the good kind and the
bad. Love slipped into proper perspective with the rest of their lives now. They had a new viewpoint on themselves and men and loving them. They owed each other a great deal, their new lives. That was Page’s last thought as the drone of the plane’s motors hummed her into a deep, dreamless sleep. The sleep of a baby. Contentment.