Dishonored (23 page)

Phillip stood inside the room and watched her. He could hardly believe it had only been six weeks since they’d been together
that last night; he could hardly believe that this was the same woman he had loved for as long as he could remember. She was
so thin, her shoulder bones dug into him as she leaned against him in the taxi from the airport and her face had narrowed,
highlighting the perfection of her features, the enormous size of her slanted, sad, gray eyes. She looked so vulnerable, almost
the same as she had when he first saw her, so fragile and needing that his heart had wrenched at the sight of her, and his
body had ached with a desperate want to touch her, to comfort her. She needed him, in a way he had never been needed or wanted
or desired in his life before, he was her lifeblood and that thought filled him with such power and such longing that it took
his breath away.

Suzanna turned. “Phillip?”

He went to the glass door and stood there, just looking at her. She put her hand out to him and he leaned forward, taking
it and pulling her toward him. He felt the tremble in her body and his own body responded, an involuntary emotion.

He put his hands to her shirt and slowly unbuttoned it, his fingers stiff, shaky. She wore nothing underneath, she never did
with him. He eased it off her shoulders and gazed at her body. He could see the outline of her ribs just beneath the pale
brown skin, skin so soft and smooth it tasted like cream. He bent his head and gently kissed her torso, his mouth traveling
up to the sharp hollow of her neck. Suzanna wrapped her fingers in his hair and held his head close to her body. She let out
a breath, a breath it seemed she had been holding since she left England, and finally she relaxed. Closing her eyes, she moaned
quietly as he lifted her skirt and pressed his mouth to her thigh and she smiled, with love and deep, deep relief, while the
tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

In bed that night, Phillip lay awake while Suzanna slept quietly beside him. He knew he had to tell her, he knew that she
had to go back to Mitchell, that neither of them could afford the scandal but he had no idea how to say it. She was so unstable,
so abandoned in her passion, giving herself up entirely to him that he really was afraid if he left her she would just break
down. It would be like taking the ground from under her feet. He rolled on to his side and stared at the shafts of moonlight
that had slipped into the room. He had to tell her, though; he didn’t know what else he could do.

“Phillip?” He felt a moment of guilt, as if he’d been caught out. “Can’t you sleep?”

He rolled over and looked at her. “No. I thought you were asleep.”

Suzanna was lying on her back and she stared blankly up at the ceiling. “I was,” she said quietly, “but I often wake up after
half an hour or so.” She smiled, wearily. “I don’t seem to be able to make it through the whole night anymore.” Phillip reached
out for her and she moved toward him, curling into his body. “Why can’t
you
sleep?”

“I don’t know,” he lied.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” He stayed silent and gently stroked her hair. “Phillip?” She moved so that she could look
up at his face. “Tell me, please.”

He pressed his finger to her mouth. “Sssh, it’s nothing, the heat perhaps, that’s all.”

He closed his eyes and it was then that Suzanna knew. She felt the most extraordinary pain in her chest, as if her heart had
cracked. “You want me to go back to Mitchell,” she said blankly. “You don’t want me here.” She moved away from him and sat
up, holding the sheet over her breasts. “You don’t want any scandal.” She dropped her head forward and closed her eyes. The
pain came again, so intense it made her wince. She held her breath to stop it.

“Suzy?” Phillip knelt up and moved to her. “Suzy? Are you all right?” He put his hand on her shoulder but she didn’t react.
“Suzy?” He began to panic, she wasn’t breathing properly, her face was ashen. “Suzanna?” Phillip shook her gently. She stared
at him wide-eyed, she couldn’t breathe, the breath was stuck in her chest, she couldn’t let it out, the pain was too great.
“Suzy!” he shouted. “For Christ’s sake, Suzy! What the hell…?” He shook her harder and she started to gasp, unable to
swallow any air. “Oh Jesus!” Phillip suddenly struck her across the face, a slap, loud and sharp, but not painful and she
screamed, a wrenching, terrible noise. Then she drew breath. Finally she began to sob.

Phillip held her. “You have to go back,” he whispered. “You can’t stay in India, you must have known that, Suzy, you must
have known…” He kissed her hair, his arms wrapped around her frail, thin back. “Suzy, please, it’s for the best, you
have to trust me, it’s for our future.”

“But Mitchell…” She drew back and looked at him. “Mitchell is going to kill me,” she cried, “I know it, I’m sure of… ”

Phillip soothed her. She wasn’t seeing things properly, she was overwrought. “Suzanna, I promise nothing will happen to you,
you have to stop all this… ”

“This what?” She wiped her face, instantly angry. “Fantasizing? Is that what you were going to say?” She jerked away from
him and hugged her knees into her body, digging her fingers into the flesh. Suddenly she felt completely hopeless. She lay
her head on her knees and closed her eyes. What was the point? None of it made sense to her any more; she was tired, exhausted
and empty. Phillip was all she had and no matter how hard she tried to believe, she didn’t know if that amounted to very much
any more. She tried to think of something to say, anything, but she couldn’t; her mind was totally blank, her body numb.

“Suzy?” Phillip touched her shoulder, trying to bring her back to him. “Suzy, you will listen to me, won’t you?” She shrugged.
She didn’t know what she would do. “You’ll go home?” He had to have her word, he would only be here another day, he needed
to know she would be safe, that he would be safe. “Suzy?”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to,” she answered listlessly, but she didn’t know if it was the truth. She wondered if she knew
anything at all.

“Only until this is over, until I’m back in London, you do understand that, don’t you?” He leaned in close to her and took
a strand of her hair, winding it around his finger. Even in anger, in desperation, she aroused him. “You trust me, don’t you,
darling?”

“Phillip, I…” She broke off and took his kiss. What was the point in explaining? What was the point in anything?

“There has only ever been you,” he whispered, pulling her toward him with the strand of hair. “There will only ever be you.”

Suzy looked away. “Jane?” she murmured. It was hardly a sound but it hung in the air between them for a moment, like a steel
divide.

“Jane means nothing,” Phillip said. He looked at Suzanna. “That’s the truth.” But Suzy couldn’t tell anymore, truth or lies.
He had asked her to believe so much that she wasn’t sure she believed any of it. Phillip let go of the strand of hair and
cupped the back of her neck with his hand. He kissed her hard, holding her head, digging his fingers into her hair. “I love
you, Suzy,” he whispered. “Jane is only there for us.” He kissed her again and she opened up to him, pulling him back on to
the pillows with her, wrapping her legs over his. Phillip moved, his hands either side of her head, he held himself above
her and looked down at her face. She filled him with strength. “Jane is ours,” he murmured, “I promise you.” But Suzanna didn’t
hear him. All she heard was an empty, hopeless silence.

* * *

Rami looked across at Jane, her eyes closed, her head leaned back against the cushions of the cane sofa. He smiled at the
peace between them, the contented silence that he so enjoyed, and glanced at his watch. It was late and he had to get going.

“I know,” Jane said, hearing the slight movement. “It’s late and you ought to get going.” She opened her eyes and sat upright.
“Do you really?”

Rami got to his feet and walked over to her. He bent his head and lightly kissed her forehead. “Yes,” he said, “I do.”

She smiled at the kiss. They touched only briefly now, now that they knew what lay beneath the surface but they couldn’t stop
touching altogether. They simply couldn’t do it.

“OK,” Jane said. She sighed, stretched and then stood. “Thank you for your company tonight. I would have been perfectly all
right on my own but I’m glad I wasn’t.”

“Thank you for dinner.” Rami pressed his palms together and bowed his head. Jane smiled; she loved his perfect courtesy. “Shall
I walk you to your bicycle?”

“If you like.”

He went to hold out his hand but stopped himself at the last moment. Jane noticed it but said nothing. She would have loved
to hold his hand but she couldn’t, she was married. It wasn’t much of a marriage but it was a vow, in the eyes of God, and
that was important to Jane. They walked down the steps of the verandah and around the outside of the house to the front. They
walked close together, only inches apart, but they didn’t make contact.

“Are you all set for tomorrow?” Rami asked as they reached his bicycle. He had planned a big journey for them, to one of the
distant temples of Baijur.

“I think so,” Jane answered. She never knew where they were going; Rami was peculiarly pedantic about that.

“Good.” He got on to his bicycle and bent to put the clips on. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, his feet ready on the
pedals.

“Yes, tomorrow.” Jane stood back as he moved off.

“Goodbye, dear Jane,” he called, waving over his shoulder.

“Cheerio!” Jane stood and watched until he had disappeared down the drive and out of sight. “Dear, dear Rami,” she finished,
and hugging her arms around her, she walked back into the house alone.

It took Rami about half an hour to cycle back home, and the house was in semi-darkness when he arrived; he presumed everyone
was asleep. He left his bicycle by the front steps for the boy to put away and walked into the house, nodding to the bearer
who was squatting on the verandah waiting for him. As quietly as he could, he walked along to his room and, dismissing the
boy, he switched off the lamps and went out onto his balcony. He gazed up at the stars and said his prayers, new prayers,
different from ones he had said for most of his life. Then he walked back inside, undressed and, thinking as he always did,
of Jane, he lay down and went to sleep.

Shiva sat at the desk in his study and smiled. He had heard Rami come in, later than usual, and he knew that Major Mills was
away. The gods are moving the paths of fate for me, he thought, they are showing me the face of kindness. He stood and walked
across to the small statue of Kali he had taken to keeping on his wall and took it in his hands: the black goddess, who wears
a garland of skulls, the symbol of destruction and recreation. He ran his fingers over her body, the multiple arms and legs,
the grinning, violent face. “I worship you, Kali,” he said aloud, “for you shall give me what I want.” Then he replaced it
and made his way through the silent bungalow to bed.

S
UZANNA SAT IN THE SUITE WITH THE BLINDS DRAWN AND A
drink in her hand. She had been weeping. Her eyes were swollen, her face streaked with tears. She sipped a vodka tonic and
stared blankly at the wall. She didn’t know what to do.

An hour earlier she had been lying here with Phillip and now he was gone. She had had to say goodbye, she had clung to him
in the hotel reception, begged him not to leave her, but he had. He had calmed her down, dried her tears and gone. Left her
here in Delhi, completely alone.

Suzanna took another sip of the drink. It wasn’t strong enough so she added a splash more of vodka and reached for her cigarettes.
She hadn’t told Phillip about the money, about stealing from Mitchell; she didn’t know why not. She had planned to, to convince
him that she should stay, but after that first night there wasn’t any point. He didn’t want her here; there wasn’t much point
in anything now. Suzanna added a half-smoked cigarette stub to the collection in the ashtray and leaned her head back against
the cushions. He thought she could go back, she had even convinced him that she would book her plane, that she’d leave this
evening. Suzy smiled bitterly. If she ever set foot in the UK again, if Mitchell ever found out where she was, she would be
dead. Mitchell would not forgive.

She lit the last cigarette in the packet and crushed the box in her hand. Standing, she walked to the telephone to dial room
service for another packet and a couple more tonics. She picked the receiver up, scrabbled around for the list of numbers
and unable to find it in the semi-darkness, she crossed to the window and pulled open the blinds. The brilliant afternoon
sun hit her and she covered her eyes, her vision blurred. Moments later she removed her hand and looked out.

There was a scattering of people around the pool, golden-brown bodies on blue-and-white striped towels. The water was clear,
shimmering in the sunlight, and the pool boys stood around in immaculate white jackets and black trousers, hurrying across
to sunbeds at the click of a finger. Suzanna stared down, mesmerized by the gently moving water, by the sudden glorious image
after the dismal darkness of the room. It looked so inviting, so incredible. She opened the French doors and stood on the
balcony. She loved the sun, adored lying in it, adored being brown. It boosted her, she always felt, recharged her energy,
filled her with life. She lifted her face up to the light and closed her eyes. The warmth was delicious, it soothed her. She
took a deep breath, filling her lungs and letting go of it slowly, her whole body relaxing as the breath filtered away.

Then she opened her eyes again and went into the suite. She felt dizzy for a few moments, off balance and she held on to the
wall. Recovering, she walked through to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She thought for a few seconds, her hand
pressed against her temple, then she pulled her shirt over her head. Why not go out into the sun for an hour or so, she decided,
why not relax in the warmth? What else did she have to do, except sit up here in the dark, miserable and alone? She unfastened
her skirt, letting it drop to the floor and left it there. Naked, she bent and rummaged in a bag for a dress and her sunglasses,
found what she wanted and slipped the dress over her head. She still felt wobbly, a little unstable on her feet, but she did
feel better, uplifted slightly, focused. She would buy a bikini at the hotel boutique, some suncream. She checked she had
cash in her handbag and dropped the bottle of vodka in there, along with her room key. She definitely felt better now, she
felt she had a purpose. For once, she knew what to do next.