A Gift of Poison

by A Gift of Poison (retail) (epub)

  ‘Yes, of course, they’re your number-one priority, I realise that.’ but I’m doing that on Christmas Eve.’ He thinks how ironic it is that this year he is willing to go on the special day and Inge no longer cares when he visits. ‘After that I’m free as air.’

  Kate says hesitantly, ‘I thought you might be seeing Helen.’

  ‘No, she’s probably going to be away. And she doesn’t want to see me anyway, not really. She’d only be doing it to be polite. I just don’t know if I’ll be a very good guest, I’m not very cheerful these days and I don’t want to put a damper on things for you.’

  ‘Well, it’s harder for you than for me,’ says Kate generously. ‘You’ve had a hell of a year, no wonder you’re shell-shocked. Eighteen months at our school would have been enough on its own. But I’m used to that and I’ve had two years to get over David, so I’m fine.’

  ‘Every time you say that,’ he says, glad to focus on her instead of himself, ‘I wonder a bit more if you really are.’

  ‘Yes, I really am,’ says Kate, sounding angry. ‘It was a dream and it turned into a nightmare. I’m glad it’s over and I don’t ever want to go through anything like that again.’

  ‘Right,’ he says. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m going to see as little as possible of David, just enough to hand over the kids and pick them up. None of that civilised divorce, best pals stuff for me. I’m going to cut my losses and start again. And I’d like to start by spending Christmas with you. Nothing heavy. Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to rape you or propose marriage.’

  ‘I know that,’ he says. ‘I’m not looking worried, am I?’

  ‘Oh, Richard,’ she says, ‘that was a joke. Well, sort of. A very small one. I want to have a jolly Christmas, that’s all.’

  But he thinks she still sounds angry. ‘What if I cook for you?’ he suggests. ‘Just to give you a break. Then I might feel I was making a contribution, not just freeloading.’

  ‘That would be lovely. I know I’m a rotten cook.’

  ‘No, not at all, I didn’t mean that. I just thought it might make a change for you and I rather miss not having a kitchen.’

  ‘God, you’re welcome to mine. David never let me go in it so I never got any practice. Any time I did try to cook something he told me how ghastly it was, so I gave up.’

  ‘That’s settled then.’ He feels relieved and yet resentful too, as if he’s never really had any choice in the matter.

  ‘You know,’ Kate says, suddenly gentle, ‘I do understand. Helen was magic for you, wasn’t she? It was the same for me with David, so I think I know how you feel. We’ve both had to let go of a magic person. But now I’ve had time to get used to it, I honestly think life can be better without illusions.’

  He wonders if she is right.

  * * *

  It is hot in the small stuffy bedroom. Felix lies beside Inge in a drowsy post-coital stupor, breathing in her ripe familiar smell. He has had so much pleasure that he feels quite satiated and full of goodwill. ‘You know,’ he says to her, almost with affection, ‘you really should take this up professionally, you could make a fortune.’ Some women might find this remark offensive, but he’s pretty sure Inge will take it as the compliment he intends.

  She smiles, as far as he can tell under the tangled mess of hair and duvet. ‘It’s too late for that, Felix, I’m too old, and besides, I’m always in love.’

  ‘But not with me,’ he points out. ‘Never with me. First Richard and now Michael. Every time I meet you, you’re in love with someone else.’ He has often thought about this and how it makes everything much easier. God knows, no man in his senses would want to be loved by Inge, to be the object of all that obsessive yearning, and yet there is something about the harsh light of reality that doesn’t please him. It’s relaxing but not flattering that Inge sees him as he really is. He misses the soft-focus mezzotint of love, the adoration that Sally used to give him. He misses the drama of a grand passion, the operatic excess. It makes for trouble but there is still nothing like it. He wonders if he can make Raffaella fall in love with him.

  ‘Well, you can’t expect me to fall in love with you,’ Inge says pleasantly. ‘I know you too well.’

  He reaches under the bed where he has hidden her present. ‘Look what I got you for Christmas, Inge,’ he says. ‘Would you like to open it now?’

  ‘No, I want to save it for Christmas Eve.’

  ‘Open this one now,’ he says. ‘I got you something else for Christmas Eve. You can’t open this one in front of the boys.’

  Her face lights up and she tears at the wrapping paper with childish glee. ‘Oh, Felix,’ she says, real delight in her voice, ‘you’re so kind, you got me a new vibrator.’

  ‘Well, I remembered you saying you’d lost yours.’

  ‘I didn’t lose it, somebody stole it from my handbag when I went to that party and I was too embarrassed to ask about it. Shall we try it out?’

  ‘Not now. I’ve really had enough for one day.’

  ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that. Next time then. Isn’t it nice, Felix, that we can give each other so much pleasure?’

  He still isn’t used to the change in Inge. It goes against his fundamental belief that character, his own and other people’s, is formed at an early age and stays much the same through life. But Inge has actually changed. She looks and tastes and smells and feels as she always did, she behaves in the same way, but she is so cheerful that he fancies she has been cloned and reprogrammed. Like everything else about her, this new cheerfulness is excessive and he is not sure he can keep pace with it.

  ‘I’m going to have such a happy Christmas,’ she says. ‘I shall play with my new toy and think about Michael. It’s going to be wonderful. Thank you, Felix.’

  She kisses him on the cheek. He notices she is not going to fantasise about him.

  ‘So you won’t be lonely this year?’ he says.

  ‘No, the boys are here and Richard is coming on Christmas Eve but it really doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be lonely anyway, I’m going to help in a hospital. Once Christmas is over it’s the new year and then I can think it’s only ten months till I see Michael again. Just think, Felix, once the year has turned the time will pass so quickly and then we can have a glorious affair, Michael and I. It’s going to be so wonderful. If I want to be faithful to him you won’t mind, will you? I may have to give you up then.’

  He really doesn’t know if she’s ludicrous or pathetic. Perhaps there is even something faintly magnificent about such lunacy. Madness on an epic scale rather appeals to him. ‘Well, of course you must do what you like. I’m certainly not going to worry about something that may or may not happen in ten months’ time. I just hope you won’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t work out with him, that’s all.’

  ‘But of course it will work out. He promised me. We’re going to meet again in a year and a day, like in fairy tales, and that was November the fourth so it’s only—’

  ‘Yes, you told me all that.’ He can’t bear to hear it again. He thinks all this attention to detail is very German and he finds it heavy going. ‘I just mean he might change his mind. Or he might not have meant it in the first place. It could just be something therapists say to their clients when they’re breaking up, just to keep them happy till they get over it.’

  He sees the smile fade from her face and wonders if he actually wants to upset her. ‘But that can’t be right, Felix. He wouldn’t lie to me. That’s not how therapists behave. He wants to see me again but we have to be ethical, we have to leave a space.’

  ‘Oh well, I don’t know, I was only trying to warn you. I’m sure you know best.’

  The smile is back, irrepressible it seems. ‘It’s going to be wonderful, Felix, you’ll see. Don’t worry about me, I’m going to be so happy. Now what about you, have you got your Gabriella into bed yet?’

  ‘Raffaella.’ He wonders if she does it on purpose. ‘No, I haven’t, she’s teasing me.
But that’s quite fun and it’s only a matter of time.’

  ‘So we’re both in the same position. Isn’t that interesting? We’re both waiting for these wonderful people to be ready for us and meanwhile we keep each other happy. Isn’t that nice?’

  She’s positively radiant. He has to remind himself that he used to complain when she was depressed, but it’s still hard to bear. What a pity, he thinks, that there is always a snag. She’s probably better in bed than anyone he’s ever had, but one way or another she always ends up driving him crazy. He can’t stay away from her for long but he can’t stay long with her either, a familiar dilemma.

  ‘So have you got your holiday all planned?’ she asks. ‘Are you going to have Christmas in the sunshine?’

  ‘Yes, I certainly am. It won’t be all holiday, though, I’m going to make a start on the script of the book while I’m there. My agent finally sold the film rights so I’m going to be quite busy.’

  She looks so happy for him that he feels a beast for having tried to dampen her spirits. ‘But that’s wonderful, Felix, you’re so clever, why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t quite settled and I didn’t want to jinx it.’

  ‘No, I mean today. As soon as you arrived.’

  ‘Well, we were busy with other things, weren’t we?’

  ‘But we must celebrate.’ She jumps out of bed and pulls on her clothes, leaving her underwear on the floor as usual. ‘Come downstairs and have a drink and tell me all about it. Who is going to play the girl in your book? Did Sally mind that you wrote all about her? Who is going to play you in the film, Felix? Will they get someone who looks like you? Do they let you choose the actors?’

  Felix gets up and dresses more slowly. He is beginning to feel exhausted. Previously she reminded him of Madam Butterfly, with Michael instead of Richard as Pinkerton. Now all her breathless enthusiasm reminds him of Gigi. He feels like patting her on the head and saying, ‘Hush, you silly child.’ He notices he is starting to feel affection for her again.

  He follows her downstairs and she pours them two large whiskies. The sitting-room is immaculate, the way it always is these days, another symptom of the new changed Inge. Sometimes he almost feels he has come to the wrong house.

  ‘They don’t let you choose the cast,’ he says, trying to answer her questions as briefly as possible to avoid the feeling that he is being interviewed yet again. ‘But you can make suggestions. And I didn’t really write all about Sally, she was just the germ of the idea. But you’re right, she wasn’t very pleased. I thought she should have been flattered, but there you are.’

  ‘Well, if you ever write about me, Felix,’ Inge says, ‘don’t worry, I shall be very flattered and I shall tell everyone, you must buy that book, it’s all about me.’

  ‘All right,’ he says wearily, charmed and exasperated, ‘I’ll remember that.’

  ‘And is Elizabeth’s lover going to come on holiday with you?’ she asks suddenly.

  ‘I don’t know. It looks as though he’s got cold feet, he may be going to chicken out. Still, that’s not my problem.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s embarrassed,’ she says. ‘It was a bit of a strange idea, I think.’

  ‘I thought it was a very sensible idea. He could keep Elizabeth busy while I see Raffaella.’

  ‘But who is going to keep Raffaella’s husband busy? You still haven’t got it right, there is always one person left over, like musical chairs.’

  ‘I don’t know, he’s supposed to be busy on the telephone doing business deals, or maybe he likes black girls, I can’t control everything, Inge, but I’m doing my best. Some things will just have to be left to chance.’ Suddenly her face goes very serious. ‘Not too much to chance, Felix.’ She reaches behind a cushion and pulls out a flat thin object, A4 size, in Christmas wrapping. For a terrible moment he thinks she has written something and wants him to read it. That really will be the end of the relationship, he thinks. No amount of good sex could make up for that.

  ‘This is your Christmas present, Felix,’ she says, ‘but you’ll have to open it now, you can’t take it to the Caribbean with you, I don’t think Elizabeth would understand.’

  He opens it, feeling her watching him. Perhaps it is a pornographic magazine that she has got him as a joke. He prepares his face to look pleased.

  He unwraps a horoscope, a booklet of maybe a dozen pages neatly bound. He can’t think of anything he wants less. He says, ‘Inge, how lovely, what a surprise.’

  ‘I got your chart done. Only I’m not sure it’s correct because you didn’t know your exact time of birth when I asked you.’

  ‘I don’t remember you asking me that.’

  She smiles. ‘Ah, I was very clever about it. We were talking about being good at different times of day and whether it had anything to do with when you were born and you told me you weren’t sure because your parents are dead. Anyway, this is the best they can do with the information we have, and I’ve read it, of course, and the thing is, Felix, you are going to have a Saturn transit for the next two and a half years and that will separate the false from the true, so you must be very careful.’

  He looks at her in amazement. She really is quite unhinged, he thinks.

  ‘You mustn’t worry about it. But it’s a very important time for you and you’re going to be tested. You could have a big crisis, not fatal, but serious. Relationships could be ending or beginning.’

  ‘But they always are,’ he says mildly. ‘I don’t think we need Saturn to tell us that.’

  ‘No, this is something special, Felix, you must listen to me. This is something unforeseen.’

  ‘Well, I’ll remember that,’ he says. ‘I’m not really into astrology myself but maybe I will be now. Thank you, Inge, that’s a lovely present. A really big surprise, the way presents should be. I’ll keep it at the flat and refer to it often.’ He takes a small square gift-wrapped box from the pocket of his jacket. ‘And this is for you to have on the day.’

  Her face brightens again. She takes the little parcel and examines it carefully, shaking it, turning it this way and that, suddenly reminding him of a monkey. ‘What is it, Felix? Is it scent? It feels like scent. Oh, I do hope it’s scent, I’ve run out of my favourite, well, I have to carve it out of the bottle with a nail-file, and it’s so expensive. I got it before Richard came back and I’ve made it last too long, I think, it’s sticking to the bottom of the bottle.’

  It is indeed her favourite scent, for he has observed the empty bottle on her dressing-table, but he is not going to tell her that. ‘It’s a surprise, Inge,’ he says sternly, ‘and you must wait till Christmas Eve.’

  She hugs him. She feels very strong and energetic. She never hugs him like that in bed. ‘Oh Felix,’ she says, ‘you’re a nice man after all, I think. Well, parts of you are nice, anyway. Would you like to stay to supper? The boys are out tonight. We can play all our favourite music.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I can’t. I’m taking Elizabeth to Bohème as a treat before we go away. We won’t find much opera in Barbados.’

  ‘A treat for you or her? I thought you like opera more than she does.’

  ‘Yes, I do, but she likes it enough.’

  ‘Well, have another drink before you go.’

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t have time.’

  She follows him to the door and they kiss on both cheeks. She says, ‘Now don’t forget my advice, Felix. You’re such an old friend now, I don’t want to see any more bad things happen to you. You be careful. Saturn is very powerful.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Felix says, laughing. ‘I like living dangerously.’

  Acknowledgements

  My thanks are due to Sara Barrett and Carol MacArthur for their enthusiasm and encouragement during the siege, Peter Wright for playing the Godfather, Colin Cina, John Hoyland, Dr Prudence Tunnadine and Dr Jesmond Woolf for providing information, Anne Askwith, Caradoc King and Susan Watt for the carrots and the whip, Yasmin Murray-Playfair
for the massage, Susan Cowell for the moral support, Barnaby Jago for the high-tech advice and Carol Clewlow for the phone calls.

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by Penguin Books Ltd

  This edition published in the United Kingdom in 1991 by

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  Copyright © Andrea Newman, 2016

  The moral right of Andrea Newman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781911420408

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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