‘You’ll enjoy Singapore,’ she said, rising to her feet and judging that a téte-á-téte was no longer necessary. ‘When do you leave?’
Elizabeth looked questioningly at Adam, and he turned to her, giving her his slow smile, all the love he felt for her vividly apparent.
‘On Wednesday,’ he said, and was rewarded by a tight hug.
Looking at them both, Helena felt a lump in her throat. They were happy together, and they deserved to continue to be happy together. She prayed to God that Raefe would have the sense to leave Elizabeth alone when she returned from Singapore.
‘I’ll be going now,’ she said, knowing that if she were Elizabeth she certainly wouldn’t risk losing a man of Adam’s worth for a brief sexual frolic with a rogue like Raefe.
With her arms still tight around Adam’s waist, Elizabeth looked towards her. ‘’Bye,’ she called, knowing full well why Helena had come to see her and deeply touched by her concern. ‘Everything’s going to be fine, Helena. Really it is.’
Helena grinned, blew her a kiss, and walked with Junoesque grace through the house and out to her little Morgan. She hoped Elizabeth was right, but she couldn’t help remembering that it was Raefe who had given her Li Pi’s name and address. Raefe who had gone to the trouble to find a teacher worthy of her. And he had said he loved her. She doubted if he had said that very often in the past. And she doubted, very much, that he would let her go easily.
Chapter Fourteen
‘But why the hell have they gone? And for how long?’ Ronnie asked, mystified, as he perched himself on the end of their double bed and watched Julienne as she scooped her spicy red curls up and away from her face, securing them in a neat twist on the top of her head before she began applying her make-up. ‘We were supposed to be playing tennis with them tomorrow!’
‘I have no idea,’ Julienne said with a little shrug that sent her bathrobe slipping off one creamy-smooth shoulder. ‘Elizabeth telephoned me yesterday and said that they were leaving for Singapore this morning. She said they didn’t know when they would be coming back. In three weeks’time, perhaps. In a month. They really had no idea.’
‘Bloody odd, if you ask me,’ Ronnie said, eyeing Julienne’s bathrobe as it slipped provocatively lower. ‘I’ve never heard old Adam express any wish to go jaunting off to Singapore.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘He’s not going to inspect its fortifications against the Japs, is he?’
Julienne giggled and applied tiny dabs of foundation cream into her forehead and nose and cheeks. Adam’s preoccupation with Hong Kong’s defences was a well-known joke between them.
‘Peut-étre,’ she said, smoothing the foundation cream into her skin with practised fingers. ‘Maybe.’
The bathrobe had slipped further, and a pleasingly pert breast with a dark, almost russet-coloured nipple was now magnificently displayed.
Ronnie rose to his feet and stood behind her, his hand sliding down and caressing the exposed part of her anatomy appreciatively.
‘Arréte!‘ she said, with no ill-humour. ‘Stop it, chéri. I am in a hurry.’ She had just showered and in half an hour she was meeting Derry for drinks at the Peninsula. She added a slight touch of colour to her cheeks and sucked them in, regarding her heart-shaped face in despair. ‘Quelle horreur! Why can I not have cheekbones like the beautiful Elizabeth? All high and classical and wonderfully, wonderfully photogenic?’
‘Because you have a face like a little kitten,’ Ronnie said lovingly, his hand moving reluctantly away from her breast and resting chastely on her shoulder. He lowered his head and kissed her on the temple, hesitating for a moment and then saying: ‘Don’t go out this evening, Juli. Stay in and keep me company.’
Her violet-dark eyes shot open wide. ‘Alors, chéril! What is it? Are you not feeling well? Are you not going to the club to meet Alastair?’
It was Thursday night, and it was a fond fabrication on both their parts that on Thursdays Juli had a meal out with her girlfriends, and Ronnie met up with Alastair or Tom at the club. Both of them were well aware that in fact neither of them spent the evening in quite such a decorous manner and, until now, neither of them had very much minded. It was a mutual deception containing very little real deceit.
Ronnie looked at her pretty, concerned face in the dressing-table mirror. He was supposed to be going to Wanchai to meet a Chinese girl he had been seeing for over two months now. Stray tendrils of curls were escaping from the knot on top of Julie’s head and curling forward on to her face. ‘No, I’m not ill,’ he said, wondering where it was she was going and if she was still seeing her major in the Middlesex. ‘To tell you the truth, I just fancied a Thursday night at home for a change.’ He cleared his throat, almost embarrassed by the confession. ‘Together.’
She had been in the process of applying mascara, and her hand stayed for a moment in mid-air. She hadn’t seen Derry for five days, and the mere thought of him sent an anticipatory tingle down her spine and a flush of heat to her vulva. ‘Oh, chéri.… If I had known sooner …,’ she began, not wanting to hurt him.
He gave her a quick – too quick – smile. ‘It’s all right, Juli,’ he lied. ‘Perhaps next Thursday.…’
She put down her mascara-brush and twisted round on the dressing-table stool to face him. His smile hadn’t reached his eyes, and his voice had sounded distinctly wistful. ‘Non, not next week,’ she said decisively, taking hold of his hands and twisting her fingers through his. ‘We will both stay home tonight.’ Derry could wait. He was, after all, only her lover. It was Ronnie who was her husband and her friend. Ronnie who came first and always would do.
She flashed him her wide brilliant smile. ‘It will make a nice change, non?’ she said, hoping that he wasn’t suddenly approaching middle age and respectability. If he was, there would be no more Derrys and that would be a pity. Also, she could not imagine Ronnie being respectable. He enjoyed philandering. It came almost as easily to him as it did to her.
She giggled and wound her arms about his neck. ‘Perhaps we should give the houseboys the night off?’ she said, her eyes sparkling wickedly. ‘And then we can enjoy some really noisy sex, chéri!’
‘… and so I thought that Elizabeth had talked Adam into leaving for Singapore because she wanted to put an end to her affair with Raefe,’ Julienne said to Helena the next day as they were having lunch in Gripps at the Hong Kong Hotel. ‘But now, after what Derry has just told me, I don’t know what to think!’
‘And just what did Derry tell you?’ Helena asked, keeping her opinions about Elizabeth’s motivations to herself.
Julienne picked up her wine-glass, and half a dozen gold bracelets cascaded glitteringly down her arm. ‘He said that Melissa was spending a few days in Victoria and that on Saturday Raefe was taking her to the Gold and Green ball.’
‘You mean that there has been a reconciliation?’ Helena asked, not believing it in a hundred years.
‘No—o,’ Julienne said cautiously. ‘He didn’t exactly say that. He just said that Melissa was bored and wanted to go to the Gold and Green, and that as she didn’t have a suitable escort Raefe had agreed to take her.’
The dark sweep of Helena’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Well!’ she said at last. ‘He is her husband. He perhaps thinks that it’s far safer for him to take her than it is for her to go with someone who may indulge her in her heroin habit.’
Julienne put down her wine-glass and began to toy with her asparagus. ‘But, if Raefe had told Elizabeth that his wife was back in Victoria and that he was taking her to the Gold and Green, might that not be why she left for Singapore? Because she thought there had been a reconciliation between them?’
‘No,’ Helena said, with no trace of doubt at all. ‘Believe me, Julienne. Where Raefe Elliot and Elizabeth are concerned, there are no misunderstandings. The only trouble between those two is that they understand each other too well!’
‘On verra,’ Julienne said, not totally convinced. ‘We’ll see.’
Helena looked at
her in amusement. Julienne was always meticulously groomed. This lunch-time the mascara beneath one eye was ever so slightly smudged, and her gold-red curls looked suspiciously mussed. ‘When did you say you’d seen Derry?’ she asked curiously.
Julienne had the decency to look slightly discomfited. ‘This morning,’ she said, avoiding Helena’s eyes. ‘Isn’t that Kaibong Sheng, the Chinese industrialist, over there by the door?’
‘Never mind Kaibong Sheng,’ Helen said, her Suspicions confirmed. ‘Do you mean to say that you came straight here from Derry Langdon’s bed?’
Julienne tried to look as if such a thing was unthinkable, and failed.
Helena shook her head in disbelief. ‘My God, Julienne! It’s barely one o’clock. Couldn’t you have waited a bit longer? You only saw him last night!’
Julienne’s Thursday nights were as well known to her friends as they were to her husband.
Julienne shook her head ‘Non,’ she said with commendable dignity. ‘I did not see Derry last night. I hadn’t seen him for five days!’
‘So that is why he was pacing the Long Bar at the Pen. Alastair said he looked as frustrated as a caged lion.’
Julienne giggled. ‘Pauvre petit,’ she said indulgently. ‘I wasn’t able to get a message to him and so, this morning, I drove over to his flat before he left for work.’
‘And?’ Helena asked promptingly, wondering how on earth the Ledsham marriage survived.
‘And he did not leave for work,’ Julienne replied, her eyes sparkling. ‘Not for quite a while!’
They were still laughing when the waiter came with their bill.
‘And just who were you with last night that drove the delectable Derry from your mind?’ Helena asked as an afterthought as they rose to leave.
Julienne looked at her in surprise. ‘Ronnie, of course,’ she said as if it should have been obvious. ‘Who else?’
Melissa Elliot cast her eyes disinterestedly around the opulent drawing-room of her Victoria Peak home. It looked just the same as it had when she had left it. Glossy and immaculate and with as much warmth as a luxury hotel room. A slight frown puckered her brows. All the right ingredients were there and always had been. Ankle-deep carpets, lush settees, acres of flowers and piles of shiny new magazines on the long low coffee-table. Yet she was always aware that it was not quite right, and the knowledge irked her. She had an unfailing eye for colour and style where clothes were concerned, yet somehow the same flair did not extend to her home.
She walked moodily across the vast room to the windows that looked out over the mountainside and the distant city and the bay. At the moment she didn’t give a damn whether the room looked like a hotel room or not. She wouldn’t be doing any entertaining here. Raefe’s tolerance didn’t extend that far. He would take her to the Gold and Green, and probably as many other functions as she wished to attend, but he had been adamant that he was not going to play happy families with her at Victoria Peak.
She drew deeply on a cigarette, her hand trembling slightly. God, but she needed something stronger than a cigarette, and there were over two hours to go before Huang would bring her her scheduled shot of heroin.
She hated Huang with implacable unadulterated hatred. Nothing on earth would make him unlock his blasted medicine-cabinet and give her even a grain of heroin before the appointed time. Or a grain extra. She had tried everything: violence, sex, money. He had been, and still was, impervious to anything she could offer or threaten. ‘Mr Elliot says …,’ he would repeat endlessly, and as far as Huang was concerned Mr Elliot’s word was God-given law.
She ground her cigarette out in an onyx ashtray and continued to stare sulkily towards the distant hills of Kowloon. A sea-mist was rolling rapidly landwards. The Peak, never slow at succumbing to cloud, was already wreathed in smoky-grey tendrils. Soon cloud and mist would meet and thicken into fog, and visibility would be reduced to a mere few yards. Raefe had said that he would drive up to see her that night. To discuss further their joint plans for her return to England.
The telephone on a low lacquered table some three feet away from her began to ring shrilly. She eyed it distastefully, making no move towards it, waiting till Kwan, one of the houseboys, ran into the room to silence it.
‘Good morning, sir, Yes, sir. I will see, sir,’ he said hurriedly and uncomfortably.
Melissa waited with a sudden feeling of expectancy. Perhaps it was Raefe. Perhaps he was telephoning to say the fog would be too heavy for him to drive up to the Peak later in the day. That she should ask the chauffeur to drive her down to Victoria now, before it grew any worse, and they would meet at his apartment.
‘It is Colonel Langdon, Mrs Elliot,’ Kwan hissed, his hand firmly over the mouthpiece. ‘He wishes to speak with you most urgently.’
Melissa’s small-featured feline face tightened, the nostrils showing white, ‘Damn and blast!’ she said savagely. ‘Tell the old fool I’m not here. That I’m still in the New Territories.’
‘Yes, Mrs Elliot,’ her number one houseboy said unhappily. Colonel Langdon was not a man who relished being lied to, and his temper was choleric when aroused. He began to lie to the Colonel with a smoothness born of years of practice, and Melissa threw herself petulantly down on to the nearest armchair.
Her father adored her. He indulged her every whim and thought she could do no wrong. It was all very gratifying but it was not what she wanted at the moment. She wanted the relief of being with someone who knew her for what she was, and accepted her for it without unnecessary pontificating. Her father had naturally expected that she would return to live with him after Raefe’s trial. The very thought of it had filled her with horror. There would be the difficulty of obtaining heroin, the endless scenes and recriminations when he was at last forced to realize that the things Raefe had said about her in court were true. She didn’t want that. She wanted one person, at least, to continue thinking of her as being perfect. And she wanted heroin. And so she had agreed to Raefe’s conditions and gone to the farm Raefe’s grandfather had bought fifty years ago, way out beyond Golden Hill.
At that time she had hated Raefe even more than she came to hate Huang. But even hating him she had to admit grudgingly to herself that he was treating her with surprising fairness. Their marriage was over, and had been over for nearly a year. After the revelations of the trial it was doubtful if any judge would award her decent alimony. And if she was to live in the style to which she had become accustomed, as Mrs Raefe Elliot, then she would need an exceptionally decent amount. Raefe’s conditions had been blindingly simple. If she accepted his help in conquering her addiction, he would see to it that she returned to England with the kind of maintenance agreement that would keep her in luxurious comfort. If she didn’t kick her addiction, then there would be no money, no future, nothing.
Her nails dug deep into her palms as she remembered. God in heaven, how she had hated him! He had made it all sound so simple, so easy; and for her, with her craving, it was all so bloody, bloody impossible.
The houseboy put down the telephone receiver and said apologetically: ‘I don’t think the Colonel believed me, Mrs Elliot. I think perhaps he will come to the house to see if you are here.’
Melissa merely glowered at him as if he were personally responsible for her father’s actions, and he scuttled away, wondering how long she would remain in residence. How soon it would be before the house was once again empty, or occupied by Mr Elliot and, if the spirits were favourable, a new and more amicable mistress.
Melissa chewed her lower lip fretfully. Her houseboy was right. Her father would undoubtedly be on his way, and would probably still be there when it was time for Huang to give her the heroin she was waiting for so torturedly. She swore and closed her eyes. She knew that she wasn’t very bright intellectually, but there were times when even she could not believe the mess she had got herself into.
She had never really wanted to go to bed with Paul Williams of the Middlesex; she had merely wanted to arouse Raefe’
s jealousy. Her eyes, cornflower-blue and still capable of looking surprisingly innocent, opened and narrowed. Even then, two years ago, their marriage had been in difficulties and she had not understood why. She still didn’t.
She rose to her feet, prowling restlessly once more across to the vast window that looked out over the mountainside. There was very little to see now. The cloud and mist had fused, and Victoria and the bay were lost to view. She lit herself another cigarette and inhaled deeply.
Derry said that it was her own fault that Raefe had told her their marriage was over. That it would not have happened if she had not been so flagrantly unfaithful to him. Melissa knew that he was wrong. Somehow, for some reason that still eluded her, Raefe had fallen out of love with her long before she had embarked on her affair with Paul.
He had never given any indication of it by word or by action, but she had enough experience of her power over men to know when a man was no longer enslaved by her. And Raefe had not been. Not for a long while.
She removed a fleck of tobacco from her tongue and continued to stare sightlessly out into the swirling mist. She knew now, in retrospect, that she should have settled for what he had given her and would have continued to give her. His name, his protection and the remains of his affection. But it had not been enough for her. She hadn’t wanted his affection, God damn it! She had wanted his passion. She had wanted him to be as crazy about her as she was about him. And he had not been, and nothing that she had done had altered the situation for the better. It had only made things indescribably worse.
She shuddered when she thought about Paul Williams. He had been fun for a time, and gratifyingly good-looking, and she had thought herself marvellously in control of the situation. She wasn’t in love with him, and so he couldn’t possibly hurt her. She was only using him in order to arouse Raefe’s jealousy. In order to make Raefe want her again. Only he hadn’t, and Paul had hurt her catastrophically. He had introduced her to heroin, and almost instantly she had become agonizingly dependent upon it.
A Multitude of Sins Page 27