Crimson (37 page)

TUESDAY, 20 JULY 1965

Miranda lay half asleep on a sofa in front of her sitting room window, which looked down on the Place de la Republique; from there, the road led to the distant perfume factory which Miranda wanted to buy. It had been built in the depression of 1870 when most villagers were out of work by the Countess of Saracen, whose birthday was still celebrated, and a mass said for her soul in the local Church of St. Peter.

Miranda was startled by a knock on the door. She called, “Entrez,” and then said, “Oh, it’s you, Adam.”

“May I come in?” “Sure. I’ve finished my siesta.” Miranda yawned, stretched, and wriggled her bare, brown toes. She was wearing an emerald silk shirt and bikini.

“I see an old friend.” Adam pointed to a framed cartoon, which he had given her the previous Christmas: a startled businessman gazed at a ghost; rising from his desk drawer, it said, “I am the spirit of old notes to yourself.”

“You hit home with that one.” Miranda yawned again; “What do you want?” She rubbed her stiff neck.

“Big miv. take to go to sleep on the couch.”

“I can fix a stiff neck in no time,” Adam offered. I learned massage at the gym. Lie flat on the floor.”

“Okay.” Another yawn.

“Shirt on or off?” “Oh, keep it on.” Miranda lay on her stomach on the kilim rug; it was patterned in ochre and the same faded blue as Adam’s flared jeans and shirt.

Adam knelt behind her head and started to massage her shoulders. After ten minutes, Miranda’s neck ache had vanished: she lay on the rug, her eyes shut; she felt boneless and sleepy.

Adam’s voice was quiet and firm.

“Your body is getting lighter and lighter … You feel light enough to float on a cloud… When I count to ten, you will relax…” Miranda thought, Why, he’s hypnotizing me, and then floated to sleep.

She woke to see Adam lying with his legs up, on the sofa, reading Paris Match. Miranda looked at her watch.

“I’ve been asleep almost an hour. You did a great job. I feel as boneless as a squid.”

“You were very tired,” Adam said, “and we’ve all been worried about Elinor.”

“Yes.” Miranda’s face crumpled and she started to weep. She rubbed both eyes, then winced as, too late, she remembered her contact lenses. She edged them out and scrambled to her feet.

“I can’t think why I’m crying.”

“A natural reaction, after this strain and anxiety,” Adam said reassuringly. He watched her, his head to one side, as if undecided. He stood up. He moved towards her.

“Don’t worry. I’m in control of everything. You can relax now.” Miranda sniffled-She felt the flimsy cotton of Adam’s shirt against her as muscular arms wrapped around her. Her body relaxed and she leaned her head against -his strong chest. She felt his hand beneath her shirt; his thumb pressed along her naked backbone all the way to the nape of her neck.

Each time Adam gently pressed against a vertebra, Miranda was pusfied against his body. She could feel his flat, muscular strength: she could also feel his arousal as Adam kissed her firmly on the mouth.

Long ago, Miranda had realized that sexual involvement with Adam could only complicate her life, but she had been only half awake and off guard when he made his ya ove Rebelliously she thought, what the hell. Why 3houldn’t I forget business just for once? And why shouldn’t I do as I please with my own body? In silence, Adam lifted her into his arms and carried her five feet nine and no lightweight on to the bed. Miranda’s hair flamed against the pillow as she lay back with her eyes closed, thinking, Too late to stop him now. And I don’t want to.

Almost motionless, she lay in a trance of sensuality, Adam’s mouth against the soft skin’ of her breasts. He whispered, “Keep your eyes closed. You’re not to move.

Here, I’m in charge.”

“But don’t you want me to “I want you to lie still and let me … love you.” Miranda felt a melting and tickling inside her stomach as if someone was stroking it with a feather. Her body relaxed in Adam’s strong and clearly skilled hands as he stroked her bare, smooth belly, and a warm glow spread from her navel over her entire body. His mouth warmed her as his lips travelled slowly downward from her breasts.

Sometime later, Miranda said, “But you haven’t.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Adam said. V like to do things to a woman. I get my pleasure from seeing you climax.” She had thrashed around like a freshly caught trout on a grassy bank.

“I told you, you’re not to move.” Adam firmly replaced her arm on the pillow.

“And what if I doT “I’ll tie you to the bed.” Miranda opened her eyes.

“Bondage? How sleazy.”

“Not if it’s playful,” Adam promised.

“I’d blindfold you with a silken scarf and tie your wrists and ankles to the bedpost with silken ribbons.”

“I’d bite them off!”

“I was only joking,” Adam murmured, feeling again for her breasts.

An hour later, Miranda, lying on top of Adam’s suntanned, naked body, said sleepily, “That was a big surprise.”

“I’ve been wanting to do it for years.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

“The same reason as you. Prudence. But nobody could feel platonic about you, Miranda.” Miranda remembered howling as a twelve-year-old because Adam treated her as a child. Briefly she wished that child could have looked into this future. She said, “I think … I think I’ve always wanted … this.”

“I know I have.” Adam again bent his lips to her breast.

Miranda said sleepily, “I’ve never had an orgasm during sex like that. Sometimes I’ve been on the verge, but then the feeling vanished.”

“I have to confess, you’re not the first woman I’ve made love to.” Miranda inhaled the earthy smell of the bed, propped herself on one elbow, and started gently to scratch Adam’s arm with her fingernails, stroking the sensitive inner flesh, from wrist to elbow.

He shivered with pleasure.

“No woman has ever aroused me as you have.”

“You tooT “I’ve never felt like this before, Miranda. I feel that we’re equals, that you’ll never allow me to dominate you. I suspect you’ll always keep me guessing, keep me on my toes.” Roughly he pulled her to him.

His kiss was deep and passionate. Miranda fleetingly wondered how she could ever have thought that Adam had a withholding, guarded nature. And then she was drawn again into his spell and she stopped thinking altogether.

Later, Adam lazily stared past Miranda to the windows twin rectangles of blue sky, between which hung an old r in an elaborately carved mahogany frame. The sil-ver cd glass was faintly green in places and speckled black where the silver had flaked off the back. Beneath this mirror stood Miranda’s surprisingly feminine dressing table, skirted in spotted white muslin frills.

Adam said, “I’m surprised to find your dressing table looks like Scarlett O’Hara’s under drawers.”

“Sometimes a frill is just a frill.” Miranda shrugged.

“My clever darling,” Adam murmured.

Miranda stretched voluptuously.

“Annabel and Clare are going to get the surprise of their lives when we tell them about us!”

“I’d prefer to keep our secret to ourselves for a bit,” Adam said firmly.

“I have to settle Elinor’s affairs. I don’t want anyone to suspect that I favour you over your sisters, which is something they already fear because of our business connection.” He did not mention his other reason for secrecy, although they both knew it. Everyone close to her knew that Elinor’s unspoken dream was that Miranda her only remaining unmarried granddaughter should marry into the British aristocracy. While Elinor lived, Adam dared not risk flinging a monkey wrench into that dream.

At eleven o’clock the following morning, Buzz sat down on the blue chair by Elinor’s bedroom window, pulled the kitchen timer from the pocket of her navy cotton dress, and set it to twenty minutes: the mechanism began to tick in an irritating way.

Elinor, in a cream silk bed jacket was propped up by a stack of frilly pillows; she looked old and frail.

Elinor’s cat, Fudge, now allowed back into the bedroom, padded to the grey sofa in front of the fireplace, where Adam sat, and rubbed against his jeans.

“Cats always like me.” Adam leaned down and stroked the pale ginger fur; the cat curled up against his feet and went to sleep. From the briefcase that lay open at his side, Adam extracted a document. He spoke briskly.

“Before I return to London, I’d like to propose a strategy, should Elinor ever again be ill, to prevent the problems that Buzz has experienced during the past few weeks.” Because nobody had been empowered to sign cheques on Elinor’s behalf, no household bills or salaries could be paid: for three weeks, the servants” wages had been paid by Buzz from her own bank account.

“If, for any reason, Elinor can’t sign cheques, then I suggest I sign them for her,” Adam said.

Buzz looked up sharply. Adam continued, “But I would be empowered to draw only on Elinor’s housekeeping account in Nice. The power of attorney would specifically state that no cheques could be made out to me or the firm. We would wait for any payment until Elinor was well again.”

“Why not have two signatures required?” Buzz suggested.

“One of the other STG partners, perhaps?” “Certainly.” Adam nodded, then turned to Elinor.

“And the STG professional insurance would automatically cover malpractice.” Elinor looked at Buzz.

“That okay with you? Yes. Then please do it, Adam dear.” Her voice was feeble.

After Elinor signed and the document was witnessed, Adam produced a second sheet of paper. He said, “In order to prevent literary contracts being held up, I also suggest that a general power of attorney be given to me again only in a limited area and only to be used if Elinor be indisposed.” Buzz asked, “Is that also covered by the malpractice insurance?” “Yes,” Adam said.

“Incidentally, if I deliberately breached a power of attorney and exploited it for my own benefitili enough I can’t think how that would be possible I o d be struck off the Roll of Solicitors by the Law Society.”

“That all right with you, Buzz?” Elinor asked faintly.

“Do you have any specific objections, Buzz?” Adam inquired politely.

After a moment, Buzz shook her head. These powers of attorney were only for day-to-day transactions. If Buzz protested without cause, it might even sound fishy as if she wanted to control Nell’s money.

“Then I also agree to that,” Elinor said.

WEDNESDAY, 21 JULY 1965 At five p.m.” Scott finished his coverage of the anti Vietnam War demonstrators. In the newsroom, reporters hung around drinking coffee as they read or talked. Desks were littered with yards of wire stories, celebrity bulletins, picture handouts, telephone messages, and empty coffee cups. In the background, teletype machines clacked and a bank of television monitors showed different pictures, some of which were material being fed through to the station. Somebody wailed, “You mean after two lawyers passed this, I still can’t run it? In the news editor’s office, an assistant was reading the Est of stories from her scratch pad, “Report from Washington on the senator bribe story. The mayor of New York and the anti-war demonstrations. We have the mayor bugging out on this, Scott.”

A head poked around the door.

“Call to Europe in your office, Scott.”

“Sorry, you guys.” Scott hurried to his office and carefully closed the door.

“Annabel? What’s happened, darling?”

“Scott … I miss your “I miss you too, angel.”

“Ineedyou here.” Scott was sensitive to the pressure his wife had been under for the past month. First she’d learned that her grandmother, whom she adored, was dangerously ill, and had been at her bedside ever since. Then her contract had not been renewed. This was a double-barrel blow for both of them in terms of loss of money and prestige. The humiliation was worse because it was so public, and it was a good thing that Annabel had not been in New York when the news broke, when gloating gossip writers had jammed Scott and Annabel’s home phones with their venomous questions.

Scott knew that Annabel was now facing the worst moment any model can face: she was officially over the hill, gaining weight, losing her looks and on the downward path to wrinkles and sag. No reassurances from Scott had been able to lull his twenty-five-year-old wife’s anxiety about her fading beauty. It was ludicrous to be so young and yet a has-been.

Scott tried to handle her diplomatically.

“Angel, I wish I could be with you, but we both know I can’t. We’ve talked about this so often: you know I want to be supportive, but I also have to do my job properly. We’re short-staffed here the summer holiday period’s started and everyone’s stretched. I can’t just walk out. If I’d come when you first asked me, I might have been in Saracen for an entire month: I’d probably have no job to come back to.” Gently he added, “And what use would I have been, angel?”

Once again Scott felt that she was asking for something unreasonable, something a child might ask of a parent. He wished Annabel were not so insecure and dependent upon him; for the past few months, as she waited for Avanti to make up its mind, she had needed constant emotional support and reassurance from Scott, who had felt her clinging to him, almost like a physical weight on his back.

P8

“I wanted you with me,” Annabel wept. She had forgotten t she telephoned to tell Scott the news of the trust.

“My job means having to give up a lot of things that everyone else takes for granted in their life, and you’ve always known that, Annabel,” Scott again reminded her.

“Your job seems to suck up your entire life,” Annabel sobbed reproachfully.

“Yes, that’s why I married you. Because I love you, and I want what little private life I have to, be steady and permanent,” Scott said.

“You’re so involved with your precious career that you put it before your private life,” Annabel retorted.

“You put us on the back burner you’ll deal with it next week, next month you’ll do that until you retire!”

“My career i .s precious to me and you knew that when you married me. It’s not as if I worked for a large network news show. You know that everyone here does the job of at least two people. How would it look if I suddenly disappeared for weeks leaving a gap that other people would have to fill because my wife’s grandmother is ill on the other side of the world?” “Please come, Scott “It’s not necessary. I can’t walk out on everyone here. Please try to understand that, angel.”