Vanessa moved to let the maid pass, and then stood in the dining room
doorway to see the room as her guests were about to do. Yes -
everything was perfect: the best Sévres crystal, the elegant
Cartier candlesticks, the gleaming Limoges porcelain and the heavy,
deliciously expensive Christofle silverware. The centrepiece of
flowers, a stunning blend of colour and texture, completed a picture
almost identical to the one that had featured in the centre spread of
The Peak two weeks before.
And later, after the last dish had been cleared away and the coffee
had been served, she relished the praise as her guests had relished the
meal. The food had fuelled the conversation, which showed no sign of
abating: she was always fascinated by the way her careful balance of
guests interacted; and by the unexpected, but always interesting
argument - and gossip - that her dinners produced.
Released for a moment from the conversation, she looked with
satisfaction round the animated murmur of the long table: at the
familiar faces of their close friends and her husband's business
associates; at the gleaming silver and crisp linen; at the warm glow of
candlelight; and at the elegant disarray of crumbs and coffee cups and
liqueur glasses idly turned to catch the golden light. A fresh breeze
touched the gauzy curtains across the french windows, and the splendour
of the city at night was spread out, far below.
She watched her lover, immaculate and earnest, the candles sparkling
in the polished lenses of his glasses. He was absorbed in a slightly
rasping monologue whose newest willing victim nodded and smiled, and
touched her upper lip with her tongue. The line of his jaw, the taut
muscles of his neck as he leant forwards, his clean-shaven tan and the
strength in his emphatic hand: all proclaimed the qualities she had
found irresistible - at least until the novelty of the conquest had
worn off. She had let him believe that it was she who had been the
victim.
Theirs had been an easy relationship: she had selected him
carefully, and had allowed him to charm and then seduce her. Every
moment had been grasped and panted over at first; and then they had
slipped into the occasional, savoured Saturday afternoons in his flat,
spiced by dangerous, secret glances exchanged at dinners like this one,
where he was her husband's frequent guest.
Her husband, too, was absorbed, but in conversation, not conquest.
Such a good listener, she thought fondly. She watched his warm smile,
the attentive animation of his eyes. She heard the delighted tone of a
reply that brought a reflection of that delight, and then laughter, to
the faces that were so intent on his response. The two men could almost
have been brothers, she reflected: the same strong, straight nose and
dark hair; the same definition to the jaw; and the same taut-muscled
build. But her husband had a gentleness, a warm softness about him that
her lover lacked; while her lover's harsh aggression, his confident
assurance that what he wanted need only be taken, was the quality that
had made him sexually attractive to her, as well as convenient.
When she had realised that she was, at last, pregnant, she had
become suddenly conscious of the fragility of her good fortune. She was
aware that the affair must end immediately. Nothing now must be allowed
to compromise her marriage, her family, her home, and the joy that
consumed her through the child. With the baby they were at last
complete: a perfect family. All her ambitions had now been achieved.
Her lover had been puzzled by her crisp, quiet determination, anxious
at the news of her pregnancy and relieved at her explanation of the
dates. The precautions had always been hers, and he had shown no desire
to question her further.
He had been a good lover, she conceded, though a little irritatingly
smug about his power to drive her, in spite of herself, to distraction.
But she recognised in herself a corresponding smugness in having been
the one to break off the relationship, and in the knowledge that he was
oblivious of the secret gift she had stolen from their passionate
afternoons. And he would remain forever oblivious: she was determined.
He was not enough of a rogue, and too much of a gentleman ever to risk
her future with an idle tongue; and as Miriam was the only other sharer
of their secret, she could safely put the affair behind her, as though
it had never happened.
She smiled: Miriam was so sweet. She had been shocked and excited
when Vanessa had told her of the affair over the phone to London; but
Vanessa also remembered, uneasily, Miriam's obvious relief when the
pregnancy had begun and the affair had ended.
And now Miriam had come to Hong Kong to share in her happiness.
Vanessa looked across at her friend, and became aware of the head
tilted in wry amusement opposite her; the raised eyebrows and the
watching smile. Miriam mouthed, "Can I see the baby?" emphasising her
request with a glance at the ceiling. Vanessa rolled her eyes in
recognition of her daydreaming, made sure that her dozen guests were
still absorbed, and nodded, smiling. The two women rose and slipped
from the room. "Just going to see the baby," Vanessa whispered to her
husband as she passed; and he caught and squeezed her hand as she ran
it lightly across his shoulders.
The conversation faded as they entered the hall, and their own
voices murmured together as they walked hand in hand up the wide,
polished wood of the stairs, turning in their conversation to catch
each other's eye.
"I'm so excited!" said Miriam. "You both look so happy! And you'd
been trying so long!"
Miriam had been the first one she'd phoned - even before her mother
- after the birth a month before. The baby had been in her arms, the
receiver cradled in her neck, and her husband's adoring face had been
an image of rapture as he sat next to her hospital bed, leaning as
close to his child as he could.
Vanessa gently pushed open the door, and led the way in.
In the corner, lit by the dim bulb in the porcelain lamp that Miriam
had sent - "I want my gift to be the light that you see her by when
you're feeding her," she'd said - stood the cot. Next to it was the day
bed on which she'd dozed for those two sleepless weeks before the baby
had settled into the routine that had become the wonder of all her
admiring friends.
Miriam leaned over the cot, and cooed over the child. Its tiny,
helpless hands moved in its sleep, and the perfect mouth twitched into
an unconscious smile. She turned to Vanessa: "Well, there's no doubt
about the father!" she said, and beamed at her friend.
Vanessa, on the day bed, cleared her throat. She smiled nervously,
and patted the quilt next to her. "Well, actually, there's something I
have to tell you about that," she said, in a voice that was bright and
almost too loud. She had closed the door.
There was a look of concern on Miriam's face as she turned; and she
put her hand on Vanessa's knee as she sat down. "Whatever is it?" And
then, with her head again tilted, and the despairing, admiring smile
that had greeted Vanessa's exploits since they had been at school: "Are
you up to something?"
Vanessa relaxed. Miriam had always indulged her, had always accepted
her outrageousness - and had always kept her secrets. Her eyes
sparkled, green and gold, and her lips pursed in her old, girlish,
wicked, smile.
"You know you said there's no doubt about the father?" replied
Vanessa. Her voice was sly, teasing, and she watched her friend's eyes
widen. Miriam pressed three fingertips flat against her lips in
horrified and delighted anticipation. Then, in a tumble of images -
husband, lover, baby.....lover! - she sucked in sudden air in a gasp.
Vanessa lowered her head, watching her fingers turn the bright gold
band. She heard the gasp, but didn't see the delight fading from
Miriam's eyes, leaving only the horror.
"He's a lovely husband, but you know how long we've been trying. The
doctor told me I was fine, so it could only be him. And we were both so
desperate for a child - it was the only thing that held our lives from
perfection." Vanessa looked up at her friend. "And that's the reason I
took a lover." She smiled self-consciously at the melodrama of the
phrase, but was pleased with the way it emphasised her control of the
affair. "I didn't dare tell you the real reason, in case it didn't
work, but it did, and I'm so happy! I'm going to be such a wonderful
wife and mother, and he'll be as wonderful a father as he's been a
husband. Everything will be perfect now!" Her eyes glistened, and
Miriam took her hands.
"Oh, Vanessa," she said sadly, and then squeezed her friend's
fingers. She rose, bent over the cot and kissed the sleeping child.
Then she walked to the door, and Vanessa, following, shut it gently
behind them.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and as Vanessa pushed open
the door to the dining room she realised in puzzled confusion that
there was only silence in the room. Then a cough, and a throat being
cleared. Every head was turned towards the door, and the two women
faltered on the threshold.
"What on earth's the matter?" said Vanessa.
Every dear, familiar face showed horror and embarrassment and
dismay. Her lover's head was in his hands, and her husband's hands were
clenched in a single fist, pressed and trembling white against his nose
and mouth as though in prayer, covering all his face except for his
agonized eyes. Her quizzical smile held for a moment as she looked
around the table. And then, in the lengthening silence, she heard the
steady breathing of her sleeping child, faint but very clear through
the loudspeaker of the baby alarm on the sideboard, exactly where she
had put it before dinner.
Her smile faded, and her fluttering heart started to pound.