Her Lover (6 page)

'With a view to my novel, a few more details. Old Madame Deume was born Antoinette Leerberghe in Mons, Belgium. Money troubles after the death of her father, a lawyer I think. When she was forty, short on curves and physical attractions but long on bones and warts, she succeeded in dragging nice but weak Hippolyte Deume to the altar. A former accountant in a private bank in Geneva, he was distinctly lower middle class and was originally from the Vaud. Born Belgian, she became Swiss by marriage to mild Hippolyte, who was short and wore a goatee and a moustache. Adrien is Antoinette's nephew. Her sister, that is Adrien's mother, had married a Belgian dentist called Janson. Both Adrien's parents died when he was very young, and his aunt bravely took on the job of mothering him. She had been a paid companion to a Madame Rampal who used to spend a large part of the year in the small Swiss town of Vevey, and from her she inherited a villa there. She converted it into a nursing home for religious and vegetarian convalescents. Wanting a change, Hippolyte Deume, then fifty-five and the owner of a nice little property in Geneva which earned him a pretty penny, went to stay there after the death of his wife. Antoinette made a great fuss of him and looked after him when he fell ill. When he was better, he brought her a bunch of flowers. The maid of forty summers swooned, fell into the startled arms of the diminutive accountant, and murmured that she accepted because she felt it was God's will. Through the influence of one of old Madame Deume's distant cousins named van Offel, some sort of high-up in the Belgian Foreign Office, Adrien, who was then studying for an arts degree in Brussels, was appointed to the Secretariat of the League of Nations in Geneva. I forgot to say that a couple of years before this the Deumes had adopted the little orphan who thus became Adrien Deume.

'I also forgot to say earlier that, after moving to Geneva, old mother Deume was overcome by a spiritual need to belong to the so-called Oxford Group, a religious sect. Ever since joining (she loves it because it's Christian names straight off, and, once in, a person can be on the most intimate terms with ladies who are definitely top-drawer), she has not stopped having "direction", which, in the Oxford jargon, means getting orders direct from God. As soon as she was admitted into the group, old Madame Deume began receiving direction to invite her sister-members to tea or to lunch. (She prefers to say "luncheon", which sounds better, though she pronounces it "lunching".) Since Cologny, where the Deume residence is situated, is a select suburb, the ladies received direction to accept. But on their first visit they encountered little Monsieur Deume, and subsequently received direction to turn down all further invitations. Only one, a certain Madame Ventradour, received direction to accept two or three subsequent invitations to tea. O Father, Aunt Valérie, Uncle Agrippa, noble Christian people, so genuine, so sincere, so pure! In truth, there is nothing morally finer than well-bred Genevan Protestants. That's enough for now, I'm tired. I'll go on with this tomorrow.'

The phone rang downstairs. He opened the door, crept out on to the landing and leaned over the banister. He listened. It was the old girl's voice for sure.

'No, Didi darling, no need to worry about being late. You can stay and have lunching at the Palais des Nations or go to that restaurant you like, the Perle du Lac, because there's been a big change of plan. I was just about to phone to tell you the great news. You'll never guess, darling, but Dada and I have just this minute been unexpectedly invited to lunching by dear Madame Ventradour! It's the first time we've been asked to a meal, and it will definitely cement the relationship, make it closer, less formal. As I was saying, it will mean a big change of plan, first because now I'm going to have to ring dear Ruth Granier at once to put off to tomorrow our tea-and-meditation which we'd arranged for this afternoon, and second because I had thought of having grilled red mullet for lunching and I'm not sure if it'll keep till tomorrow even in the fridge, and it would be a shame to eat it tonight, especially after the big lunching we'll be having shortly, still there it is, we'll have it tonight and tonight's quiche will do for lunching tomorrow since quiche keeps better than mullet. But getting back to the invitation, I simply must tell you how it came about, though I'll have to be quick, I've just got time, still it can't be helped, we'll get a taxi at the rank, I must tell you, you'll love it. Anyway just now, not ten minutes ago, I had the happy thought or rather a direction to ring dear Madame Ventradour to recommend a really heart-warming book to her about Helen Keller, you know, the wonderful littel blind girl who's deaf and dumb but always so terribly cheerful, because I think it's important to keep in touch, and then as we talked of one thing and another, never lowering the tone of course, she told me all about her domestic problems, you know she keeps a large staff, cook, kitchen-girl, a personal maid who trained in the very best houses, plus gardener-cum-chauffeur. Tomorrow she is to be hostess to a consul-general and his wife who will be staying with her for a couple of days and naturally she wants everything to be simply tippety-top. She had planned it so that today was set aside for the window-cleaning, and she's got thirty windows, twenty of them at the front of the house, but what should happen but the regular woman who comes in to do the heavy work was taken ill at short notice, you learn to expect it with that type, that's the sort of trick they pull and it's always at the last minute of course, they never leave you enough time to make other arrangements. Obviously, dear Madame Ventradour was at her wit's end, didn't know which way to turn. Then I had a happy thought, straight from the heart, and said I'd be only too glad to lend her my Martha for the whole of this afternoon for her windows, of which ten are stained glass, Japanese, in the modern style, you remember them from when we went there to tea in January. She was so grateful and accepted like a shot, couldn't thank me enough, she was terribly relieved. I'm glad I had that happy thought, a good deed never goes unnoticed. So I said I'd bring Martha round to her at once, the poor girl would never manage to find her way on her own to the splendid Ventradour estate. Then -she's such a spontaneous person - she gave a shriek, why not come to lunching with your husband! it'll be pot luck! Really, pot luck! everything is perfection in her house, nothing but the best according to Ruth Granier! And served according to the rules! So we've managed to land a proper invitation! What? One o'clock of course, you know, when the best people have lunching. I must say I'm very perleased I can make use of Martha this afternoon because otherwise she wouldn't have had much to do, nowadays with the washing-machine all the work is done by mid-morning, and then again it will bring her on to see how servants in a really good house do things. I made it clear to her that it'll be an honour for her to clean windows
in a mansion. Of course, when we set off for the taxi-rank, we'll want her to walk a few steps behind us, on account of the neighbours. I'll ask her very naicely. Anyway, she'd feel uncomfortable walking with us, she'd feel out of perlace. Well, darling, with that good news I'll say goodbye, I must go and change my dress, then I've got to ring dear Ruth Granier and of course cast an eye over what Dada's going to wear and make a few suggestions, especially about soup, he makes a terrible noise with soup! By the by, Madame Ventradour very kindly asked after you and she was very interested by all I told her about your official duties, it's all right isn't it if I give her your best? What's that? I should say your regards? You're right, it sounds much more tasteful, she's such a refined person. Sorry, I didn't catch that. All right, as you wish. I'll tell her to come, she's playing the piano of course, wait a sec. (Silence. Then the voice again.) She asked me to tell you she can't come to the phone because she's in the middel of her sonata and can't stop. Yes, dear, that's what she said. Listen, Didi, don't bother coming home, have a quiet bite to eat at the Perle du Lac, at least you'll be looked after there. But now I'll have to hang up, must dash. Goodbye, then, darling, see you this evening, Mummy'll be here, she'll not desert her post, you know you can always count on her.'

Back inside the room, he lay down on the bed, inhaled the eau-de-Cologne while Schumann's
Scenes from Childhood
wafted up from the drawing-room below. 'Play on, my lovely, play, you have no idea of what lies in store for you,' he murmured, then suddenly he stood up. Quickly now, the disguise.

He slipped on the old faded greatcoat, which was so long that it reached down to his ankles and drooped over his boots. Next he put the moth-eaten fur hat on his head, pulling it down to hide his hair, which hung down in thin black snakes. Standing in front of the swing-mirror, • he looked approvingly at his shabby accoutrement. But the most important part had still to be done. He smeared his noble cheeks with some sort of shiny gum, laid the white beard on it, then cut two strips of black tape, which he stuck over his front teeth, except for one on the right and one on the left, so that his mouth looked like an empty space flanked by two gleaming canines.

In the semi-darkness, he gave a greeting in Hebrew to his image in the mirror. He was an old Jew now, poor and ugly, though not without dignity. After all, this is how he would be one day. Even if he wasn't already dead and rotting, there'd be no handsome Solal in twenty years. Suddenly he froze and listened. Footfalls on the stairs, then Cherubino's aria.
'Voi che sapete che cosa è amor.'
'Yes, my darling, I know what love is,' he said. He reached for the case, bounded across the room, and hid behind the heavy plush curtains.

CHAPTER 2

She entered the room humming the Mozart aria, made straight for the swing-mirror, kissed the image of her lips in the glass, and stared at her reflection. She gave a sigh and then stretched out on the bed, opened the book by Bergson, and riffled through it while she helped herself to chocolate fondants. After a while, she stood up and headed towards the bathroom which adjoined her sanctum.

There was a roar of running water, divers little peals of laughter, an incomprehensible girlish twittering and then a silence which was followed by the splash of a body decisively immersed, and then came a voice that was inflected gold. Parting the curtains, he approached the half-open door of the bathroom and listened.

'I adore water that's too hot, wait darling, no wait, we'll leave the tap trickling so it gets really boiling without our noticing, when I'm embarrassed they say I squint a bit, just for a second or two but the effect is charming, the Mona Lisa's got a face like a cleaning-lady, I can't think why everyone makes such a fuss about her, am I disturbing you Madame? not at all sir, but do turn round, I'm not fit to be seen just now, who have I the honour of addressing? my name is Amundsen Madame, that means you are Norwegian I imagine? yes Madame, how very, very nice, I love Norway, do you know Norway Madame? no but I simply adore your country, the fjords the aurora borealis those sweet seals and then I always used to take cod-liver oil when I was a girl it came from the Lofoten Islands I loved the label on the bottle, and your Christian name sir is what? Eric Madame, mine is Ariane, are you married sir? yes Madame I've got six children one of them is black, how very nice please tell your wife she's very clever but tell me sir do you like animals? of course Madame, I see that we shall get along swimmingly sir, have you read that book by Grey Owl? he's a Canadian half-breed an admirable man who dedicated his life to the beaver I shall send you a copy I'm sure you'll like it, but I can't stand white Canadians on account of that song of theirs you know 'alouette gentille alouette alouette je te plumerai', I mean saying 'gentille alouette' one minute and the next I shall pluck the feathers off you it's disgusting, and anyway they pronounce it 'ploume-rai' which is ghastly, they are so proud of their awful song it's virtually their national anthem, I shall ask the King of England to ban it, oh yes the King does anything I want he's very sweet to me, and I shall also ask him to set up a great big reserve for beavers, do you belong to the RSPCA? Alas no Madame, that's very bad you know I shall send you an application form, I have been a subscribing member since I was a little girl I insisted on being in it, and I've left a lot of money to the RSPCA in my will, since you insist I shall call you Eric but keep your back turned please, first names yes but familiarity no, I must be careful not to knock the scab off because it will bleed afterwards, I fell down the other day and grazed my knee and it's left a little scab of dried blood and I really must remember not to knock it off, I love picking the crust off but it only bleeds afterwards and then it reforms and I pull it off again, when I was little I used to pick the scabs off all the time picking them off was lovely but nowadays picking's not allowed! oh it's not disfiguring it's just a teeny-weeny itsy-bitsy scab and it doesn't make my knee look awful, when I'm dressed I'll show you, anyway do you like cats? yes Madame I'm very fond of them, I knew it Eric, nice people cannot help liking them, I'll show you a photo of my little cat and you shall see what a splendid creature she was, she was called Fluffy, a nice name don't you think? it was me that thought it up, it just came to me the instant they gave her to me, she was two months old angelic blue eyes a mossy little ball of fluff and good as gold, she looked up at me and I was won over at once, alas no Eric she is no longer in the land of the living, she had to have an operation and the poor little thing couldn't take the anaesthetic because she had a weak heart, as she died in my arms she looked up at me one last look with those beautiful blue eyes, yes she was in her prime, she was only two, never knew the joys of motherhood, and incidentally it was because she could not have children that after much heart-searching I allowed her to be operated on, I still blame myself even now, it's only recently that I've been able to bring myself to look at photos of her, it's dreadful isn't it how with time we come to feel less and less the hurt of losing someone we have loved deeply, to me she was a friend like no one else I ever knew, an exceptional soul with such delicacy of feeling and so terribly well-behaved, for instance when she was hungry she would rush off to the fridge in the kitchen to tell me it was her dinner-time and then she'd run back to where I was in the drawing-room and ask me to feed her so sweetly so nicely heavens she would make up to me with such good manners, opening and closing her little pink mouth soundlessly she never miaowed such delicate, polite entreaties, yes a lovable companion an incomparable friend, when I was in the bath she would come and sit on the edge of the tub for company, sometimes we'd play I'd stick my foot out and she would try to catch hold of it, I don't want to talk about her any more it's too painful, tomorrow Eric if you want we'll go and see my squirrel, I'm worried about him he looked so sad yesterday, he's so sweet when he brings his little bits of bedding out to air in the sun or when he's taking the skin off his hazel nuts, I always give them to him without shells so that he doesn't break his teeth, Eric do you want me to tell you my ideal? oh yes Madame that would give me the greatest pleasure Madame, well my ideal would be to have a large estate where I could keep all sorts of animals, starting with a baby lion with great big paws, paws like fluffy-lufry-duffy balls of wool I'd touch them all the time and when he got big he'd never harm me, the secret is to love them, and then I'd have an elephant, a lovely old grandfather jumbo, if I had an elephant I wouldn't mind having to do the shopping I'd even go and buy vegetables in the market he would carry me on his back and pass me up the vegetables with his trunk and I'd put money in his trunk so he could pay the lady, and I'd also have beavers on my estate I'd have a river put in just for them and they could build their house in peace, it's terrible to think they are becoming extinct it makes me sad to think of it every night when I go to bed, don't you agree that women who wear beaver coats deserve to be put in jail? oh yes Madame absolutely, it's very nice talking to you Eric we agree about everything, and koalas, I'd have koalas too, they've got such sweet little noses, unfortunately they can only live in Australia because all they eat is the leaves of a special kind of eucalyptus tree, otherwise I'd have already had a couple brought over, that's me though, I love all animals even the ones people think are ugly, when I was little at my aunt's I had a tame very affectionate sparrow-owl quite a charming little person, she would wake at sunset and spit-spot would come and perch on my shoulder, if she wanted to look at me she swivelled her head without having to bodily move, though that ought to be to move bodily I think, she would stare without blinking her beautiful golden eyes and then suddenly she'd come even nearer and give me a kiss with her turned-down beak which looked like the nose of some old lawyer, one night when I couldn't sleep I thought I would go and talk to her for a while and she wasn't in the little house I had made for her in the loft, I spent a terrible night in the garden calling her name, Magali! Magali! alas I never found her, I'm sure she didn't leave me of her own accord because she was very attached to me, I'm convinced some bird of prey took her from me, anyway all her sufferings are over now, as long as they don't bury me alive, that scares me, I hear the. sound of footsteps above my grave getting closer I scream in my coffin I call out for help I try to smash the lid, then the footsteps fade the living have not heard me and I can't breathe, but no I can breathe I'm in the bath, oh yes I love all animals, toads for instance, they make me feel sad, the croaking of toads in the night when everything is quiet is a noble kind of melancholy, true solitude, when I hear one in the night I feel a pang of nostalgia, the other day I found one with a broken leg poor thing he was dragging himself along the road, I put iodine on his leg, when I put a bandage on it he didn't struggle a bit because he knew I was caring for him, though his poor little heart was racing and he didn't even open his eyes he was so worn out, speak to me toad, come on smile for Mummy, he didn't move though he opened one eye and gave me such a beautiful look as if to say I know you're my friend, afterwards I put him in a cardboard box on some pink cotton wool so he would feel at home, and then I hid him in the cellar so that old Madame Deume wouldn't know, he's getting better thank God and he'll make it all right, I feel closer and
closer to him, when I go down to the cellar to reset his bandage, he has this wonderful look of gratitude, oh and the old pavilion in the garden that nobody uses, I intend to transform it I shall make it my own private place where I can go to think, I'll put my toad there until he's well again, that way he can convalesce in nicer surroundings, perhaps he'll get so fond of me that he won't want to leave me ever, now I'm thinking a rude word but I shan't say it out loud, I'm cold run some more hot water please, that's enough thank you, it's a good thing I had these thick curtains put up in my room, makes it easier to believe the stories you tell yourself, my hermit-man is more believable in the dark, it was a mistake to have my wardrobe put here in the bathroom my dresses will be ruined, tomorrow get it put back in my bedroom that's settled then, yes become a famous novelist people will beg me to go and sign my books at charity sales but I shall refuse it's not my style, my legs are really beautiful other women's are all hairy a bit like a monkey's but me, oh no, I'm as smooth as a statue yes, darling me, you are very beautiful, and what about my teeth, would you believe Eric that my dentist thinks I've got marvellous teeth, each time I go he says Madame it's incredible there's never anything that needs doing on your teeth they are quite perfect, so you do realize how lucky you are dear man? only the truth is I'm not happy, fortunately we sleep in separate bedrooms, but in the mornings I hear him getting up he whistles the Belgian national anthem, the Aubles are old Genevan aristocracy and here I am now married into a lower-middle-class family, yes Eric you are absolutely right I've got a very good figure, my eyes are flecked with gold have you noticed? all the rest is unblemished, cheeks matt with warm tones, attractive voice, brow definitely not low nose a little on the large side but decidedly very fine, an honest unmade-up face and overall frightfully elegant, it's a terrible strain being a grown-up, presently I shall get my animals out it'll do me good, when we know each other better I shall let you see them, there are sheep ducklings a kitten made of green velvet but he's not at all well he's losing his sawdust polar bears wooden cows bears that aren't polar spun-glass dogs little bowl things made of corrugated paper you know the ones fancy cakes come in they're for bathing my bears in, sixty-seven animals all told I've counted them, the big bear is the king but I can tell you that the real king the secret king is the little elephant with one leg missing, his wife is the duck, the heir apparent is my little bulldog pencil-sharpener who sleeps in the scallop shell and looks for all the world like an English detective, but that's all silly little-girl stuff, now go away please because I'm about to get out of the bath and I don't want to be seen, bye-bye Eric, just between ourselves you are a bit of a fool all you can say is yes Madame, so go away, you're a silly young man, I am going to dress gorgeously for my very own, my private pleasure.'