The Concubine Affair

by Quig Shelby

  At least she had stayed awake.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It touched me too,’ said Alain.

  ‘Uplifting,’ said Orvid.

  Reverend Turnbull suddenly recognised him from the news.

  ‘Look I must say hello to Roberta, haven’t seen her in ages, the son works in China; fascinating place to visit you know,’ said the Reverend. ‘Anyway come back next week, please.’

  The sun lit the river, and they couldn’t refuse Karin’s offer of a Sunday roast. But they didn’t stop all afternoon, they had other business to attend to; Verity had to replace Alain’s photos.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Orvid was in his review with Dr Julius Maloney. And there was another doctor with him; Dr Lawrence Calder.

  ‘How’s Libby’s death affecting you?’ asked Julius, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘I’m coping.’

  Orvid glanced at Calder; he was gulping.

  ‘Not easy though, I bet,’ said Julius whilst glancing at his pretty understudy.

  ‘Make a note of that Abigail: Looks like upping his meds was the right course of action.’

  ‘Oh definitely,’ said Orvid.

  ‘And how’s the dry mouth?’ asked Julius.

  ‘Still the same, panting like a dog,’ said Orvid, thinking of Karin.

  ‘See if it calms down, I might up the benadryl later. Any tics or spasms?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Swallowing?’

  ‘Great,’ well actually Karin’s was.

  ‘Alright then Orvid we’re done here.’

  ‘Thanks Doctor Maloney,’ and he got up to leave.

  He always tried to make a calm exit, as though he had been glad to see them, and he actually believed in their drugs.

  ‘Oh Orvid, one last question, when’s the show back on? The wife loved it,’ said Maloney.

  ‘Actually I was wondering Doctor Maloney, silly really, but perhaps I could put on a show for the patient’s?’

  ‘Excellent idea,’ said Julius. ‘See my secretary on the way out. A little escapism might do the patient’s some good.’

  Dr Calder didn’t look as convinced.

  ‘Is that wise Julius?’ he asked as the door shut.

  ‘Don’t be a killjoy Lawrence, what harm can it do?’

  Kay crept by Lawrence’s study. He was locking himself in most nights. Research he said, on the computer; she just hoped he wasn’t going to embarrass them with a police raid.

  She rolled back the corner of the carpet, lifting up the loose bedroom floorboard. Her heart stopped as it creaked loudly, and she glanced towards the door. Caution had been her watchword for so many years; her beast of burden.

  She flicked through her bank book one more time; there was more than enough to take care of her future. She tucked up in her single bed; Lawrence slept on the other side of the room.

  For better or for worse thought Lawrence, and with the tourniquet in place he injected his upper arm.

  ‘Cheer up Lawrence, anyone would think you’d seen a ghost,’ said a young looking Marcus Forster.

  ‘Sorry buddy,’ said Lawrence.

  ‘Anyway they’ll be plenty of girls there, and they all love a doctor,’ said Marcus.

  Lawrence smiled.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ said Marcus.

  They were off to a party in the halls of residence.

  ‘What did you tell Kay?’ asked Marcus.

  ‘We were studying late.’

  ‘Good boy.’

  ‘Anyway she’s still feeling unwell,’ said Lawrence.

  ‘You should have given her some of these,’ said Marcus, holding out an aluminium canister of tablets.

  ‘Where’d you get those?’ asked Lawrence.

  ‘You’re not the only aspiring medic on campus. Shall we?’

  And they swallowed a couple of tabs each.

  ‘If we don’t score tonight we need our butts kicking,’ said Marcus.

  He was the loudest, and the leader of the two friends, but even the normally timid Lawrence could feel his confidence rising.

  The Rolling Stones were playing ‘Satisfaction’ on the gramophone, and Lawrence was doing his best to chat up Miranda Holt, the university goddess. But she found his introspection tiring, and was disinterested in his projected earnings. He went to get her an apple juice, but when he returned she was gone.

  ‘Where’s Miranda?’ asked Marcus.

  ‘Over there with her friends,’ said Lawrence.

  He could see the look of contempt in her eyes, and her friends giggling.

  Miranda found him quite the pretentious bore. She loved life for its own sake. Her parents were poor, honest, and hardworking. They were pleased she was studying law, but couldn’t care less if she stacked shelves, as long as she was happy.

  ‘Stuck up bitch,’ said Lawrence under his breath.

  ‘Here let me try,’ said Marcus ‘the girls can’t resist a Savile Row suit.’

  Marcus came from money. No one could ever tell him he was arrogant; he was a Forster for goodness sake.

  Miranda talked, she liked to make friends. She liked to look attractive too, but the more Lawrence and Marcus drank the more she was teasing them, begging them to take her.

  ‘Why don’t we go back to my rooms?’ asked Marcus.

  ‘Oh no, did you think I was here for that? Darling, I’ve got a boyfriend back home,’ she said.

  He wouldn’t get invites to Marcus or Lawrence’s soirées, he was a gardener, but he was genuine, and only had eyes for Miranda.

  ‘Sorry, a childhood sweetheart,’ she said.

  ‘He’ll never know,’ said Marcus.

  ‘But I will. Look Marcus you’re a nice guy and rich, there must be plenty of girls here willing to sleep with you.’

  ‘Probably, but not as pretty as you.’

  ‘Look I’m going back to my friends.’

  ‘Stay a little longer,’ he pleaded.

  ‘Marcus really, let go of my arm.’

  ‘Sorry, of course, no hard feelings.’

  ‘How did you get on?’ asked Lawrence.

  ‘You were right, she’s a stuck up bitch.’

  ‘Did you put the tabs in her drink?’ asked Lawrence.

  ‘Didn’t get the chance,’ said Marcus mournfully.

  ‘Never mind pass them here, I could do with a couple more.’

  None of the girls were interested in the size of his stethoscope.

  Eventually people drifted away, and Lawrence and Marcus tried to take their eyes off of Miranda.

  ‘Come on let’s get some fresh air by the river,’ said Marcus.

  The moon was out, bathing the river with its glow. In the distance they could see her approaching.

  ‘Let’s hide in the bushes and jump out,’ said Marcus.

  ‘Should we?’ asked Lawrence.

  ‘Oh come on, it’s just a prank.’

  Miranda didn’t see it that way, and gave them a mouthful of abuse, but her short skirt rode even more up her thighs, and she needed teaching a lesson.

  ‘Bastards,’ said Miranda when it was all over ‘you’ll get thrown out for this.’

  Thrown out of Cambridge thought Lawrence, what would he do? Marcus would cope more, his family would eventually send him abroad, but there were no tailors in prison. They looked at each other, then the river, with one mind.

  They pushed her underneath the dark murky waters until she flailed her arms no more. The university didn’t want a scandal, and a doctor who soon became a Cambridge professor carried out the post mortem.

  It was exactly how he’d lived it all these years; they’re secret. But this time instead of following Marcus back to
his room for a brandy, he pretended to head to his own.

  Lawrence crept back, catching a silhouette behind a garden wall, it must be Bastille. She was shaking, and he slowly watched her as time stood still. Slowly she turned around, and he saw her face; it was Kay Johnson, later to become Mrs Kay Calder.

  He returned with a glass of scotch in front of him on his leather bound desk. Was it true, after all these years, Kay had been blackmailing him and Marcus? The voice on the telephone had always been heavily disguised, but clearly a woman’s. Had he underestimated her, overlooked her?

  Lawrence knocked back the scotch, and poured himself another; a double. Had he really been so blind? He couldn’t conceive of it, how she could have hid it from him. He went to his bed wondering how Kay could have fooled him for all these years.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  ‘So what did you make of St Luke’s?’ asked Alain.

  ‘Don’t move,’ said Verity.

  There wasn’t really much room to manoeuvre; he was tied to his bed.

  ‘Well?’ he asked.

  ‘Very nice,’ she replied.

  ‘They’re all missing the point,’ said Alain.

  ‘Of course they are my dear. What point is that?’

  ‘Rebirth; that’s the real teaching,’ he said.

  ‘Until the soul is purged of all worldly desire?’ she asked.

  ‘Precisely, and then it is free.’

  ‘Well perhaps we should make a start,’ she said.

  She removed the key from around her neck. Alain couldn’t see it, he was pinned down, but he could feel the lock being unpicked.

  ‘Reborn, and jumping with joy already,’ said Verity.

  ‘Now is the handsome priest going to tell me all about his theories, whilst I take him to the edge of this world?’ she asked.

  It was almost spiritual as she edged him beyond desire, only to remove the pleasure before he could benefit.

  ‘When the universe can expand no more and implodes, that is when the dead shall rise for judgement,’ he said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Verity.

  ‘As the universe falls back on itself time goes into reverse,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not disagreeing.’

  ‘So that’s why we have déjà vu, everything happens over and over again.’

  ‘Unless we break the cycle, and change events,’ said Verity.

  ‘Exactly.’

  He was so close, but Verity was skilled, and once more he was dragged back from the precipice of his weakness.

  ‘Only when I say,’ she said scathingly.

  The words alone almost pushed him over. He was consumed, delirious, ready to take leave of his senses.

  ‘And now you’ve had your run around, it’s time to put the lead back on,’ she said.

  Alain sighed.

  Lawrence knew he couldn’t tell Marcus. The hot head would kill Kay, not necessarily a bad idea, but he’d no doubt want the drug too. And Lawrence could think of nothing worse than Marcus interfering in the past; his past.

  ‘I’m going shopping,’ shouted Kay from downstairs in the hallway.

  ‘OK love,’ he replied.

  Love thought Kay. He’d not used that word in a long time. Whatever was he up too?

  Lawrence was tapping the walls whilst Kay was gone, but there was no tell-tale sound. Neither was there a concealed compartment in any of their furniture. The loft only held Christmas decorations, and the garage his car. Perhaps Kay had been the actress, but it was Lawrence now treading the boards; finally one creaked. It was in the corner of their bedroom under Kay’s bed, and he peeled back the carpet.

  He took out the bank book, careful to remember its position. Flicking through the pages there was no doubt in his mind; Kay was Bastille. He needed a whisky; a triple.

  Orvid was on the houseboat with Karin in his arms, looking up at the night sky. He knew exactly what Alain meant, and its significance. The souls that had tormented him in one life had returned to haunt him again, and would keep doing so unless he, or rather Fu, could change events.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  The only thing more lavish than the place settings, were the ornate robes on display. The visitors from Manchuria had given the Emperor an excuse to hold his most extravagant banquet to date. They were most distinguished guests, and sat near Chien-lung on his raised platform.

  Heshen was given the honour of speaking for the Emperor. If he spoke events would be ridiculously delayed by the kneeling and forehead knocking, and even Chien-lung liked a good time. To which end it was Bik Dong Fang now seated by his right arm; naturally she looked pleased with herself, and nodded an acknowledgement of thanks to Wa Yu.

  A delegation from the Jesuits was there, and Monsignor Jacques was considering raising his concerns over Alain with a Palace official.

  Wa was glad the old man’s eye was off her, although she hadn’t been forgotten; on her table was a gift of chocolates from the Emperor. Zhen strolled serenely by.

  ‘Zhen this is outrageous,’ said Wa ‘pull up a chair and join me here.’

  Zhen had been seated further down the pecking order.

  ‘How is he?’ she whispered in Zhen’s ear, after a waiter pushed in her chair.

  ‘He is well, and his heart only beats to see you once more,’ answered Zhen, referring to Alain Fontaney.

  A mercurial smile lit up Wa’s face. No one in the room could tell what they were discussing; for certain.

  Pheasant, duck, goose and an ark of exotic animals were devoured. Chien-lung, and his bodyguards, didn’t like drunks and alcohol was barred. Later the guests would receive a token of the Emperor’s affection; a young woman, or man, in their rooms, unless they practised chastity like the priests: And for the ladies and monogamous, should they desire, a pipe of heroin.

  Heshen clapped his hands.

  ‘We call upon the great Fu Chung Shoo,’ shouted an official.

  Those that had seen him before fell silent, and the visitors followed suit.

  Foo was wheeled in on a platform, standing upright. He was blindfolded, with his wrists and ankles manacled to the sides. Wa looked alarmed.

  ‘Don’t worry, it is part of the act,’ whispered Zhen.

  One of the audience got up, and taking a candle from the wall held the flame to Fu’s face. There was no reaction. The middle of the room was cleared, as two peasants dragged in another cart. It was gently overturned at the opposite end to Fu.

  ‘I must leave you now,’ said Zhen, who went to stand in front of the upturned cart.

  The crowd applauded politely as Fu slipped loose of his chains, but thus far it was something they could have seen in any market town.

  ‘Over here great master,’ shouted Zhen, and Fu orientated himself to face her.

  By decree he was facing away from the Emperor, as one of the peasants handed him a knife. The other placed an apple on Zhen’s head.

  ‘Halt,’ shouted Heshen.

  ‘We all know of the magician’s abilities, but Fu now is your chance to show our guests your true greatness.’

  He took Zhen by the hand, and led her back to her seat.

  ‘I need a courageous volunteer,’ said Heshen to the crowd ‘one who believes his god will always protect him.’

  Heshen’s eyes met those of Alain Fontaney.

  ‘Will not a priest put his actions where his words so often comfortably lay?’ asked Heshen.

  They all shied away; all but Alain Fontaney.

  ‘The Emperor’s favourite,’ shouted Heshen to the room as Alain stepped forwards; his nerve had been challenged.

  Wa covered her eyes with a fan so no one could see the horror only a lover would feel.

  ‘It is alright, Fu is an expert knife thrower, and can see thro
ugh his bandages,’ whispered Zhen.

  ‘Forgive me oh great Fu,’ said Heshen ‘I am ignoring you. Guard remove his blindfold, and cover his eyes with this.’

  Heshen handed the guard a swathe of thick impenetrable cloth. It was duly wrapped around Fu’s head and over his eyes; nightfall had come early. It was then with great pleasure that Heshen placed an apple atop Alain’s head.

  ‘I believe this is your most sacred fruit,’ he said to Alain.

  ‘And please dear Fu please be so kind as to use this knife,’ said Heshen.

  Fu carefully felt the weight of the new blade in his hand. He had to hold his nerve; as did Alain.

  ‘Priest where are you?’ shouted Fu.

  ‘Over here.’

  ‘Pray to your god priest,’ shouted Heshen just as Fu threw.

  Heshen looked at Wa wanting to see the anguish in her face, but all he saw was delight, and heard the thunderous roar of applause.

  Fu removed the blindfold and bowed, soaking up the adulation. Alain stepped out from underneath the sliced apple, and theatrically wiped his forehead, although the sweat was real.

  Chien-lung spoke to an attendant.

  ‘The Emperor asks that Fu Chung Soo and Alain Fontaney join him at his table,’ he said.

  A great honour indeed, and as they made their way to the top Alain turned to Fu.

  ‘It seems a little practice makes perfect,’ he said.

  ‘You mean a lot of magic my friend,’ said Fu smiling.

  ‘Wa,’ said the concubine across from her ‘you are positively beaming. Whatever does the Emperor see in Bik Dong Fang?’

  ‘A fresh face,’ she replied honestly.

  ‘Perhaps, but no face will ever be more beautiful than Wa Yu’s.’

  ‘You are too kind, but it is not for us to question the Emperor’s judgement.’

  ‘You are right,’ said the concubine ‘forgive me, the Emperor chooses by divine right.’

  One had to be careful in whom slips of the tongue were confided. Many were attempts to trap one into treason. Wa was lucky, she could trust her friend, and stand in lover, Bik.

  Bik watched Wa from atop: How easy it would be to poison her, with her new clique of friends and co-conspirators ready to help. As she watched Wa with murderous intent, her warrior lover, Lei Weng, watched over her and the Emperor. And Heshen in turn watched them both, and wished that one day he could bestow upon the guard Fu’s magic, and that they could share a bed every night. The Court was a viper’s nest of twisting alliances and intrigue.