The Secret of Provence House

by Aubrey Rhodes

  ‘I mean, what kind?’

  ‘Something dry – a Macon Villages I think.’

  ‘I’ll have what he’s having,’ she said to the bartender. ‘And can we get some of those almonds?’

  ‘You look ravishing,’ said James, ‘Very French,’ referring no doubt to her blue and white Breton stripes. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Very French,’ she said. ‘Yours?’

  ‘Un grand pain in the ass.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It was entirely expected. No one here gives a shit about Spain really. It’s amazing to me how far off everyone’s radar it continues to be, the misconceptions, the hackneyed clichés – you know, bull fighting and flamenco and perhaps a mention of Almodóvar or Zara, but that’s it.’

  ‘Maybe that’s not a bad thing.’

  ‘It’s bad when you’re trying to sell yourself to boring investors like these gents have been. But now they’re gone and you’re here. It sounds like your day was far more interesting.’

  ‘It was. I fell in love.’

  ‘That was fast.’

  ‘But he’s ninety.’

  They went by taxi at her request.

  ‘I’ve never heard of this Cipriani,’ he said.

  ‘The good one is uptown, at the old Sherry Netherland, where my stepfather used to take me.’

  ‘That’s the one I know.’

  ‘Then there’s a cheesy one on 42nd Street, across from Grand Central Station that’s like a mausoleum. And there’s one way downtown that’s also unappealing.’

  ‘You’re an expert.’

  ‘But the SoHo one is fine, and I know we won’t run into Nathan there.’

  ‘Have you been to Harry’s Bar in Venice?’

  ‘I’ve never been to Venice.’

  ‘That’s got to change.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But you know what? Clichés and all, I think it’s a place you should only go to when those scary cruise ships aren’t there and when you’re in love with someone.’

  ‘Have you heard from him – this Nathan chap?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit odd?’

  ‘Yes and no. I expect he’s too furious to apologize or to say anything nice or remorseful.’

  ‘Has this sort of thing happened with him before?’

  The taxi had one of those screens jammed onto the back of the front seat intruding into the narrow passenger space with local news and weather reports. She kept on trying to shut it off, but it didn’t respond.

  ‘You mean has he cheated on me before? Probably. He, and his mother who is still very much alive, think he’s God’s gift to mankind, and he entertains droit du seigneur fantasies, I think, that I was supposed to good-naturedly ignore and find alluring. You aren’t like that, are you?’

  ‘Do I seem like I am?’

  ‘No. But men, heterosexual men, can be very sneaky.’

  ‘Women can be sneaky too.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘We’re both being sneaky this evening,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not being sneaky. I’ve nothing to hide. What are you being sneaky about?’

  Moving west on Prince she noticed a restaurant she’d always enjoyed on the corner of Crosby Street that was now something else.

  ‘Do you actually think I’ve told Carmensina we’re going out to dinner together? Do you think I’ve even told her you’re here in New York?’

  ‘I guess not. Well then you better hope Camilla doesn’t say anything.’

  ‘She won’t.’

  ‘Does she know about all of your indiscretions?’

  ‘There haven’t been any others.’

  ‘What about Fiona?’

  ‘That was just a flirtation. Nothing ever came of it, or did she tell you something different?’

  ‘She told me she thought you chickened out at the last minute because of Carmensina.’

  ‘What a nice way of putting it.’

  ‘Do you mean to tell me you’ve been married for twelve years and that you’ve never been unfaithful?’

  ‘Is that so strange? I’ve been tempted a few times, one of which you know about, but no, I’ve never done it.’

  ‘Because you’re in love with her?’

  ‘Can we get another drink before continuing this discussion?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m being awful. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘It may be none of your business, but now I feel like some sort of wimpy freak.’

  The crowd that filled the tables in front of the restaurant, clusters of euro air kissers, was exactly as she remembered from the last time she had been there. They went inside and had to wait at the bar for the table she’d reserved. They both ordered vodkas and James asked for the wine list.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve let my rage at Nathan spill over onto poor you. Please forgive me.’

  ‘I forgive you.’

  ‘I think it’s quite something you’ve never cheated on your wife. I don’t think it makes you a wimpy freak at all.’

  He downed his vodka and closed the wine list. ‘Look. This is a very tricky topic for me, tonight especially.’

  ‘I’m really sorry.’

  ‘Especially because it had been my intention to do all I could to cheat on her tonight.’

  ‘My goodness.’

  ‘There you have it.’

  ‘Tonight. With me?’

  ‘With you.’

  ‘“Had been” – so you don’t want to anymore?’

  ‘I can’t think of anything else. Ever since our drink at the pub last week I’ve been obsessing about you like a sixteen-year-old. I can’t get you out of my mind and when I heard you were coming to New York I couldn’t believe my luck; when you told me last night you’d split up with your ego-maniacal boyfriend I was thrilled.’

  She put her drink down on the bar – glad she had put in so much time at the day spa. Then she looked at him, ‘I think you need to kiss me,’ she said.

  He did – slowly – and it was as if someone had handed him a key to a room he’d all but forgotten. She liked the way it felt and kissed him back. The maître d’ appeared, ‘Right this way please.’

  They were half way through a Brunello di Montalcino and two baskets of breadsticks before the food arrived. Neither of them made further mention of the kiss or of anything preceding it.

  ‘The barrister in London was intrigued and encouraging,’ he said. ‘He got me the name of his favourite Sotheby appraiser, who I’ve already spoken with and who is going to come and see the scroll and the codices.’

  ‘When?’

  His mobile phone rang. It was Carmensina tracking him down and he took the call. He got up and walked out onto the street. For all the ill will she felt for the woman, Laura was glad not to be in her place that night, and it made her feel bad. Betrayal was in the air. As she sat there waiting, she was forced to admit for the first time that the main reason she had chosen to come to New York was because James would be there too. When he returned to the table, they ordered another bottle of wine.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s normal.’

  ‘Yes. Yes and no.’

  ‘It’s two in the morning there.’

  ‘It’s two in the morning and she’s weepy and has had too much to drink and is a mess.’

  ‘I’m here following in her footsteps.’

  ‘But you’re not drunk and weepy almost every night.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well she is. And it’s got worse. And she refuses to deal with it, in any way.’

  ‘And the girls?’

  ‘The girls notice, obviously. I feel guilty as hell when I have to leave them. It’s not a good situation.’

  ‘Do you want to just call it a night?’

  ‘No. I’m starving and getting tipsy myself. We should both eat something.’

  They shared a salad, and each had a bowl of pasta and avoided any intimate topics by talki
ng about his family history and her family history and about Sotheby’s and the project. They both skipped dessert and ordered decaf espressos.

  ‘I feel I should confess something to you,’ she said, dissolving half a cube of sugar into the coffee.

  ‘Be my guest.’

  ‘My friend Pierre, the fellow in Paris, suggested two people for me to speak with about the French translation. I chose the one here in New York primarily because you were going to be here.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. I’d no idea about what Nathan was up to and I came here pretty much resolved to end it anyway.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I just wanted you to know that, and I needed to hear myself say it out loud.’

  He smiled at her, somewhat ruefully she thought.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ she said.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘This,’ she said, gesturing at him and then back at herself.

  He took another sip of wine and looked at her, ‘I’m not sure. I think it’s something good, I hope. Though I find the more I think about it, the obstacles just grow and grow.’

  ‘So, you try not to think about it.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And how is that going?’

  He laughed, ‘Terribly.’

  She laughed in kind. They both looked away.

  ‘I’ve been wanting you to kiss me like that ever since the pub,’ she said, ‘when you walked me to the Land Rover.’

  On the way up to his floor in the hotel elevator he took her in his arms. But shortly after they entered his room, she fell asleep on the bed while he showered. When he emerged wrapped in a hotel robe, he found her there, boots off but overcoat still on. He helped her out of it as gently as he could, and it reminded him of how often he had performed a similar task with his daughters. Laura awakened and apologized and mechanically stripped down to her bra and panties and crawled under the covers as he opened them up for her. He kept the robe on and got in beside her, and as he did, without warning, an unexplainable dread took hold of him from nowhere. It persuaded him to shy off trying to seduce her just yet, and he was relieved when she fell asleep again in his arms.

  He lay there for a while, praying the phones would stay silent, enchanted by the presence of this beautiful, brilliant woman asleep beside him. They lay there in the darkness of the large anonymous room overlooking the western frontier of the East Village. He pictured Manhattan as it was – the rivers at either side joining at its tip and flowing out to sea. He thought about his daughters in Barcelona. He thought about Carmensina. He thought about the possible consequences of his actions. He worried about the guilt he would feel. The guilt and his performance anxiety joined forces and sniggered at him while his hand gently grazed the small of Laura’s naked back. Then he fell asleep.

  She awakened in the dark around three and got her bearings. James was turned away from her and still. She liked the way he smelled. Apart from the freshly laundered scent of the bathrobe still wrapped around him there were no traces of cologne or deodorant or sweat – just a human odour somewhat akin to dry wood, or warm cereal. She rose silently from the bed and looked out of the large latticed window, peering down at the streets still filled with traffic impervious to the hour.

  She peed and washed out her mouth with toothpaste and slipped back into bed and began to kiss the back of his neck. She kept her lips there, grazing his skin and smelling his hair until he stirred and rolled over onto his back.

  ‘Sorry I fell asleep,’ she said to him in a whisper.

  He rolled onto his side towards her, beginning to harden.

  ‘I did too. Do you realize we’ve been saying sorry to each other all night?’ he said.

  He kissed her and continued doing so as he unfastened her bra and slipped down her panties. He could feel her reacting. Then his hand drifted down her torso and found her wet. She reached for him too. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her down on her back and climbed between her legs. They kissed again. ‘Shouldn’t we do something?’ she asked him. ‘I mean, I’m still on the pill, but even so.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, feeling like a fool, regretting the ambivalence that had hounded him since leaving Barcelona and that had prevented him from overcoming his stupid shyness about buying some protection. ‘What an ass,’ he said. ‘I’ve got nothing to offer.’

  She grabbed him with one of her hands and kissed him again, ‘It doesn’t feel that way to me.’ Then she moved out from under him, ‘I may have something in my purse somewhere.’

  He watched her naked form look around the room for her things, like some sylvan nymph from one of those ancient isles she knew so much about. It took her less than a minute to locate what she was searching for. ‘I can’t even remember when this is from,’ she said. But by the time she came back to him he had lost it and judging by the misery and low-grade panic slowly possessing him, he sensed it was gone for good.

  ‘We’ll get him back,’ she said, kissing his shoulder.

  ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but it may not be this time around. I’m so sorry, so embarrassed.’

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’m hoping you had more in mind than just this time around.’

  ‘I most certainly did. Though to tell you the truth I’ve thought absolutely none of this through.’

  He kissed her again and put his hand between her legs. But she gently moved it away. ‘I’d prefer to wait,’ she said, ‘until you manage to stop thinking so much.’

  He was grateful to her but unsure about trusting it. Even though their professional arrangement would maintain them in some proximity, there was no guarantee this would happen again. She might have been definitively turned off by what had transpired, and he worried it could happen again, precisely because it would be what he most feared.

  ‘People are complicated,’ he said.

  ‘Some more than others,’ she replied.

  He wondered if she meant it as a reproach.

  ‘Could you just hold me?’ she said.

  He spooned in behind her and they fell asleep again like that, facing the windows until he woke at dawn. Pink light filled the room. He felt her shaking against him, quietly sobbing.

  ‘Laura. What is it?’

  She didn’t reply. He asked her again, as quietly as he could. She got up and went into the bathroom and he feared the whole encounter, so desired these past few days, had reached a ghastly end. He could hear her blowing her nose. He lay there, in limbo, contemplating getting up to close the first layer of curtains so as to keep the approaching morning light in check, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. And then she returned and got back into bed with him and put her arms around him and hugged him tight, and he realized that in his spree of self-involvement and internal moaning over his wounded vanity, he had underestimated her. She was an adult, perhaps more than he in some ways. She had her own life and problems, and his wounded pride was already behind her. He hugged her back, tenderly, and didn’t say a word.

  She turned away from him, lying on her side once more, facing the window. She pulled him back against her so that they regained the position they were in when he woke up. She spoke in low but very clear tones.

  ‘I don’t know why I’m crying.’

  He kissed her between her shoulder blades.

  ‘I feel so good with you,’ she said. ‘I knew I would. But I don’t want to mess up your life. My own has been such a disaster.’

  He continued to kiss her. She started to cry again but kept on speaking. ‘I keep picking overbearing men who don’t even know who I am.’

  He remained silent a bit longer before saying to her as carefully as he could, ‘Do you think I know who you are?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said, ‘someday.’ They both started to laugh.

  She turned to face him. The room by then was filled with light. A slight wind noise hummed through an invisible fault in one of the window fittings. She kissed him and he kissed her back.


  ‘You’ve had a hard time of it,’ he said.

  ‘Sort of. But I’ve no right to complain.’

  ‘Everybody has a right to complain.’

  ‘Both my parents have been very strange. My mother was a hysteric and half demented, and my father may have been a very sweet and decent man, but I never got to know him.’

  ‘I was thinking about my father this morning,’ he said. ‘How Mother never speaks of him. The older she gets the more ashamed of him she becomes. It’s like she looks at her marriage now the way her own mother did. I imagine she’s never mentioned to you how he died.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He took up flying, a macho activity he and his rich friends got into. He wasn’t a crack pilot. He insisted on taking my little sister for a joyride one day; she had been at him about it and Mother gave in. They crashed off the coast near a village called Tamariu. People watching said he had been getting too close to the water, showing off. They found three people in the wreckage. My father, my sister, and another woman, a mistress no one had known about and who had obviously been the true reason for the outing.’

  ‘My God.’

  ‘She’s never forgiven him for it.’

  ‘No wonder you’re so frightened of betraying your wife,’ she said.

  ‘I never thought of that,’ he said. ‘It certainly has nothing to do with being in love with her. I was once. I think. But I’m miserable now and have been for a long time.’

  ‘I know.’

  They lay still for a while, until he leaned over and kissed her once more. They began to caress each other. Nature took care of the rest. Just before six, with the full curtains closed, they fell asleep, sated and smiling in the dark. Then his phone rang again. He saw it was coming from Spain, but it wasn’t Carmensina.

  Chapter 27

  Late September through June were Camilla’s favourite times of the year in Mallorca. James and Carmensina took the house in July sometimes and she rented it each August to a Danish gentleman who appreciated it and took good care of it. The crowded Mediterranean summer was not to her taste anymore, and it was then when the estate in Cornwall was at its peak.

  Not computer savvy, without a travel agent, and not wanting to bother James in the States, she had Finn drive her all the way to Heathrow. She went to a British Airways counter as if she were at Victoria Station and purchased a ticket. The only remaining flight available that day left in the late afternoon. By the time she landed in Palma, night had fallen, and she had little desire to open the house in the dark, so she hired a taxi to take her to La Residencia Hotel in Deià where she checked-in in time for dinner. It was too chilly to sit outside, and the hotel restaurant was too fancy for her to bother with, so she took a small table in the bar where she ordered white wine and some olives while waiting for a simple omelette. She ate slowly and read a crumpled copy of the day’s La Vanguardia newspaper feeling about as content as she could remember.