They kissed gently at first, then with growing urgency. As always when he kissed her like this, she felt her resolve and her ideals start to melt away. She needed him to love her, even though she couldn’t give herself to him in the way he demanded. There had to be release in her life, some discharge of tension. For a moment, it was as though she were drowning. It had been so long. Yearning rose in her with a force that could not be denied. She lifted her arms around his strong neck and kissed him back, her body pressing against his.
Henry knew exactly what he wanted to do to her and she understood. It was not a complete possession, but a partial yielding. He slid between her thighs, his kisses searching for her. Copper arched her back as his hands cupped her breasts greedily, his mouth bathing her.
‘Henry!’ she whispered, her fingers knotting in his hair. The pleasure he gave her was like the rush of some drug. She had never felt this intensity before. She had never known that sex could be this tender assault on the senses, this ruthless desire, this cannibal love.
His mouth understood everything about her, knew her every secret wish, gratified it as soon as it was formed. There were no more thoughts of pain or failure, no thoughts of anything beyond this. Only Henry mattered. She called out his name, her voice husky, lifting to a cry. Tension drained out of her in a long shudder of ecstasy. Reality rippled up from the depths of a dark sea, settling around her. Slowly, the drugged ecstasy of gratification filled her veins, relaxing every inch of her, setting the universe in motion again.
She took him in her arms, holding him tight. ‘Let me do something for you, now.’
‘There’s only one thing I want. I want all of you, Copper. You’re right. I’ll never be content with anything less than all of you. And I’m prepared to wait.’ He drew back. ‘But I want you to see me.’
He rose and began to undress, his eyes never leaving hers. She lay back on the bed, her hair spread like a pool of flame. One of her thighs was lifted to expose the triangle of hair. She left it like that, wanting her abandon to excite him.
He laid his clothes on the chair and turned to her, naked and unashamed. His body was beautiful, darker-skinned than her own and very strong, with sinews that rippled and tightened as he moved. He was powerfully built, with muscles developed and hardened by exercise, black hair at his chest, armpits and loins. There were scars, too: the marks of bullets and bayonets that had almost taken his life. ‘You can see that I am not old.’
‘I can see that.’ Copper knew she would never forget this moment. She reached out to him. ‘Come to me.’
He shook his head, his mouth serious, his eyes smiling. ‘On our wedding night I will come to you. Here, in this bed. I have waited for all my life. I can wait a little longer.’
Copper watched him as he dressed again. His self-control was greater than hers and that frightened her a little. He was so certain that she would be his one day. And then what would be left of the freedom she cherished so much? Would she have entered another servitude? Or would it be the beginning of a new life?
Ten
What had happened between them at Henry’s house had altered their relationship in more than one way. It had brought them closer and had deepened Copper’s feelings for him; but it had also alarmed her. She had made love with a man – albeit in a limited way – for the first time since leaving Amory. She had also committed herself to Henry physically, despite all her resolutions to the contrary. She felt as though she were running away from a remarriage, but losing ground constantly. His absence gave her some time to reflect and think.
Knowing that Henry was away, Suzy had invited Copper to have afternoon tea with her. She asked her to come to her apartment, which was on the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, and Copper duly arrived mid-afternoon. Suzy, however, was still in bed.
She opened the door for Copper rather grumpily. ‘Why have you come so early, for God’s sake?’
‘It’s three thirty,’ Copper pointed out.
‘Well, I didn’t get to sleep until nine this morning. I’m going to have a bath. Come.’
Copper sat on the edge of Suzy’s bath while it was filling. It was huge, but Suzy was extravagant with hot water – to Copper, the greatest of luxuries – and when she got into it, the water came up to her chin.
‘I think we’ll go to Maxim’s for afternoon tea,’ Suzy decided. She gave Copper the soap. ‘Will you wash my back, chérie?’
‘Of course.’ She began to lather Suzy’s smooth shoulders.
‘That Russian of yours. They tell me he has left you.’
‘He’s away from Paris on business, that’s all.’
‘Business with some other fool of a woman.’
‘I don’t believe that. He loves me.’
‘And you? Do you love him?’
‘Of course.’
Suzy splashed foam at Copper. ‘You traitor!’
‘I love you, too. Don’t splash me.’
‘What do you love about him? That thing which he sticks in you?’
‘He hasn’t done that yet,’ Copper said with a smile. ‘But he has a rather nice thing.’
‘You’ve seen it?’
‘Just a glimpse.’
Suzy frowned. ‘I have a number of things in my drawer that are even better. If you like it so much, I will use them on you.’
‘I don’t want anything like that.’ Copper shuddered. ‘In any case, it isn’t just sex. I like his companionship. I miss being with a man. I like men. Don’t you? You’ve had male lovers.’
‘I will tell you something strange. I’ve been with many men, but never with one who was only a man. You understand? Cocteau, for example. He has shared my bed, but the love of his life is his handsome boyfriend, Jean Marais. There have been others, the same. You see how I live? In a twilight world where people shift from one sex to the other. You cannot tell the men from the women, or the women from the men. One gets so tired of it.’
‘I thought—’
‘What did you think?’
‘I thought that was how you liked things.’
‘Perhaps it is,’ Suzy said. Her long face was melancholy for a moment. ‘Perhaps I am corrupt. But you are a juicy, fresh pear.’ She lifted her soapy face to Copper for a kiss. ‘And I cannot get my fill of you.’
Copper wiped soap bubbles off her cheek. ‘Henry says you are cruel.’
‘Oh, so you have been gossiping about me?’
‘He told me that you had a mentor. She gave you everything and you threw her aside like an old glove.’
Suzy’s eyes widened for a moment. In the cool light, they were almost golden. Then she threw her head back and laughed. Copper watched the smooth column of her throat pulsing. ‘Like an old glove! Chérie, where do you get such phrases? I thought they had gone out with Sarah Bernhardt.’
‘But it’s true, isn’t it?’
Suzy was still smiling. ‘What if it is?’
‘Henry said it was almost as though you hated her. Did you?’
‘If you had been a little brown beetle and then you became a golden butterfly – wouldn’t you hate those who’d known you as a little brown beetle?’
‘I think I’d be grateful to the person who guided me,’ Copper said. She’d learned that Suzy’s intense gaze was due in part to her short-sightedness. She hated to be seen wearing glasses and her struggle to focus gave her a disconcertingly direct stare.
‘Like pity, gratitude is an emotion I do not know,’ Suzy replied. ‘Besides, she had come to believe she owned me. And nobody can own me. What else did your Henry say about me?’
‘That you broke her heart.’
‘He had quite a lot to say, it seems. Do you believe him?’
‘I don’t want my heart broken.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.’
‘Yet you listen to Henry? Why? Because he’s a man?’
‘Because he’s kind and sincere.’
‘Chérie, people will tell you all
sorts of things about me. The little that they know, and the much that they don’t. If you listen to any of it, you are a fool.’
‘I hear everything and listen to nothing.’
‘Good.’
Suzy emerged from her bath like Aphrodite rising from the foam and dried herself. Copper felt no shame in watching her; Suzy was like a supple animal, unaware of its own nudity and therefore evoking no shame in the observer. The curls of tawny hair in the hollow of her armpits and between her legs caught the wintry light and glowed warmly. Catching Copper’s eyes on her, Suzy paused, and spread her arms wide. ‘Do you like me?’
‘You’re beautiful. You know you are.’
Pleased, Suzy turned slowly, showing off her lithe waist, the swelling fullness of her buttocks. ‘I’m not so young anymore, you know. Yet I have kept my figure. I can still show it in public. Not bad, eh?’
‘Not bad,’ Copper agreed. ‘Why don’t you shave your armpits?’
‘Shaving one’s armpits is so bourgeois.’ She lifted her arms to show the tufts on either side. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’
‘To you French, yes. To us Americans, it’s anathema to have even a shadow. But if you insist . . .’
Suzy touched the triangle between her thighs. ‘And here?’ she asked mischievously. ‘Would you like me to shave here, too – so you can see everything?’
‘No.’
‘Why not, if you are so keen to shave my armpits?’
‘Because that part doesn’t appear in public. The armpits do.’
‘How earnest you are.’ Suzy laughed. ‘You are blushing like a rose, my dear.’
‘I’ve never known anybody like you,’ Copper said crossly, aware of the heat in her cheeks.
She watched Suzy as she dressed. Her underwear was enviable, all made for her by a corsetière on the rue Cambon from silk and lace in diaphanous pinks. Her smooth, white-gold body disappeared into it, and then into a dark wool suit. She surveyed Copper thoughtfully. ‘Today calls for something special. Take off your clothes.’
‘I’m quite happy the way I am.’
Suzy made an irritated noise. ‘I am not happy. Undress.’
This was a ritual that Suzy insisted upon from time to time. The best thing was simply to obey. Copper took off her dress. Suzy hunted in her closet. They were almost the same size, and most of Suzy’s clothes fitted Copper well. On this occasion, Suzy picked out a silk outfit, deep black with delicate, emerald-green stripes. She also insisted on doing Copper’s make-up, squinting with concentration as she painted Copper’s lips and shaded her eyelids.
‘Put your glasses on,’ Copper said, ‘or you’ll have my eye out with that brush.’
‘I hate my spectacles,’ Suzy muttered, but put them on nevertheless. They were round with tortoiseshell rims and had a slightly comical appearance on Suzy’s narrow face. Yet it was when Suzy showed these rare signs of weakness, Copper felt, that she loved her most.
The make-up completed to her satisfaction, Suzy found her a pair of Chanel shoes with little gold bows and finished her off with a dainty hat and a scrap of black veil that enhanced, rather than concealed, Copper’s large, grey eyes.
‘I feel like a Christmas present,’ Copper commented, examining her gleaming reflection in the cheval mirror.
‘Which is exactly what you are,’ Suzy said, pulling on a pair of fawn kid gloves. ‘And you may keep the clothes if you like them.’
They went out together. The afternoon threatened rain, so they walked quickly, arm in arm, laughing like old friends.
Afternoon tea at Maxim’s was one of Suzy’s favourite treats. It was an especially feminine ritual. There were red hothouse roses in Chinese vases on the tables, and the tea was served on delicate art-nouveau crockery that was surely as old as the restaurant itself. The rose-scented macarons, a speciality of the house, melted in the mouth. There were cream cakes and Florentines, and vol-au-vents that arrived crisp, hot and light as a feather, and even Darjeeling tea; in short, it was as though the war were already over. It was as though there had never been a war at all.
The tables around them were almost all occupied by smartly dressed women, some in groups, but many in couples, their heads close together in murmured confabulation. Copper wondered how many of these female pairs were lovers. She caught many glances coming her way, some of them unabashedly admiring. One woman, thin and dark, stared at her with an intensity that was positively disturbing; and a square, red-cheeked woman with large green eyes smiled at her constantly, like the Cheshire cat. She responded to none of these advances.
But how different the friendships of women were to those of men. How much more elastic, more nuanced, encompassing an intimacy than men seemed incapable of. Copper had grown up with four brothers and their friends. Her sister had been older, married and working as a nurse by the time Copper was ten. With no mother, she’d had few female contacts.
She had learned a great deal from Suzy in these past weeks about what the friendship of a woman could offer. Her relationship with Suzy included shades of almost every sensation; not just wit, excitement, the unfettered enjoyment of whatever life had to give – but also something romantic.
After the tea, they walked together down the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, looking in the windows of the expensive salons, which were now being lit up as the evening closed in. The rain had held off and crowds of prosperous Parisians were taking the same promenade. Again, Copper had the sensation that Paris was an island where the war had ceased, floating in the calm eye of a vast cyclone that was circling them, shattering everything in its path but leaving the centre eerily undisturbed.
They went into Lanvin, one of the oldest fashion houses in Paris and Suzy’s personal favourite couturier. The clothes were charming, but with her newly educated eye, Copper could see that they already felt outdated, with their intricate embroidery work and beading. Even the delicate, flowery colours seemed to hark back to a simpler and more innocent age. As she wandered among the models, she inhaled the scent that hung in the air.
‘My God. That’s divine.’
‘It’s “My Sin” – Jeanne Lanvin’s own perfume. Do you like it?’
‘I adore it.’
‘It’s heliotrope and musk.’
‘I’ve never smelled anything like it.’
Suzy went to the counter where she was greeted with the deference due to a valued client. ‘Give me a flacon of My Sin, please.’
‘Is that for me?’ Copper asked, surprised.
‘Of course.’
‘But you hate perfume.’
‘You shall wear it when I’m not there.’
Copper was enchanted by the little, round, black bottle with the golden cap, and by the box it came in with its wicked black cat. ‘You’re so kind to me,’ she murmured to Suzy.
‘Really? And just this morning I was so unkind.’
‘You can be both.’
‘Indeed.’ Suzy had taken her compact from her bag and was carefully reapplying her lipstick. She examined herself intently in the little mirror and then snapped it shut decisively. ‘Come.’
Carrying their purchase, they crossed the street, where Suzy paused in front of an antiques salon. In the window, a collection of exquisitely inlaid furniture gleamed under soft lamps. ‘What lovely things,’ Copper said.
‘Ah, yes. This is a person who understands lovely things. Come.’ Suzy pushed open the door and went in. Copper followed, finding herself in an Aladdin’s cave of marble statues, oil paintings and furniture. There was antique jewellery, too, and glass cases full of heavy silverware. A woman dressed in a dark-blue suit came to meet them. It was only when she saw the expression on her face that Copper realised where they were.
‘Good evening, Suzanne,’ the woman said in a slightly breathless voice, as though she’d been struck a blow in the stomach.
‘Good evening, Yvonne,’ Suzy replied easily. ‘We had tea at Maxim’s and since we were passing by, I thought we’d drop in. I hope you don’t mind?’<
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‘Of course not,’ the other woman said. ‘Why should I mind? Welcome to my little shop.’
‘This is my dear friend, Copper Heathcote. Copper, this is Yvonne de Bremond d’Ars.’
Presented so formally, Copper held out her hand. ‘Enchantée, Madame de Bremond.’
The hand that took hers was cool, the pressure brief. If Copper had known that this was the shop of Suzy’s former patroness and lover, she would never have entered it. But now it was too late to flee. Yvonne de Bremond was past fifty years old with short, dark hair. Her suit was mannish but impeccably chic in its simplicity. At the back of the shop, a large Alsatian reclined regally on a rug, his intelligent eyes observing them closely. Suzy seemed to be the only one at ease here. ‘You’re looking well, Yvonne,’ she said, coolly examining the other woman’s face, hands and clothes.
‘And so are you, my dear Suzanne.’
‘Ah, I’m always haggard, while you are serene as ever. Affairs and intrigues take too much out of one. You’re so clever to escape the stresses of human relationships.’
‘I have no shortage of relationships,’ Yvonne retorted to this sally. ‘Though perhaps I am not as promiscuous as you.’
‘Really? I hear that you live like a nun these days.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘You’ve excelled yourself,’ Suzy went on, looking around the shop. ‘An excellent haul. So many people in need of money these days and willing to part with an heirloom or two for very little.’
‘I pay the highest prices,’ the other woman replied stiffly. ‘You know that.’
‘But everyone likes a bargain, don’t they?’ Suzy insisted. ‘Buy cheap, sell dear – that’s the soul of business, not so?’ Her smile was silky and ironic.
‘If you insist,’ Yvonne replied thinly. ‘But, in my experience, there is no such thing as a bargain. If you pay little, you get rubbish.’
‘Ah, you protest too much, Yvonne. You like to pick things up for nothing. Be honest.’
The older woman’s cheeks had turned an angry brick red. ‘I am being honest. The cheapest things are also often rotten inside and cause the most trouble to make presentable.’
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