The Painted Cage (13 page)

‘I don't know. Yes, I suppose I shall. In fact I'd love to, but I've not been long in Yokohama,' Amy answered, confused. His breath held the odour of beer and pickled onions. She tried to step back, but there were people behind her. Mrs Figdor and Mrs Cooper-Hewitt observed her silently. Mrs Russell leaned forward to say something to them. Mabel laughed in satisfaction. She drove off, leaving Amy with Dicky. There was no way to escape him. He swept her off upon his arm.

‘Do you see how everyone is looking at us? Will I ruin your reputation?' he whispered wickedly. ‘I shall
disappear
at once if you want.'

‘Oh no, don't do that,' Amy laughed. ‘As for my
reputation,
just look at the faces of those old matrons. They're only waiting to condemn me.'

‘They're absolute harridans,' Dicky said. ‘They wouldn't give an angel a chance. That Mrs Figdor has a smile like the keyboard of a piano, but don't be taken in. And if only Mrs Ewart wore stays she might have had more chance of a lover. At least she'd have had something around her waist.'

Amy laughed. ‘How can I forgive you for being so rude. They're the wives of my husband's friends,' she admonished. It was a relief to be light-hearted; she was in the mood for revenge.

‘Madam, I'm mortified,' said Dicky Huckle.

He reminded her of a fox terrier, flirting and prancing by her side. He was short and, though young, already balding, but his sideburns were thick and his face was like a mischievous schoolboy's. He was with the
Hong-kong
and Shanghai Bank and had arrived in Yokohama a week after Amy.

‘So we're both of us newcomers, both of us raw.' Dicky Huckle laughed. The saddling-up bell went for the first race; the ponies were emerging from their stalls to be led around the paddock. Dicky identified them on her programme, pressing closely all the time. Another bell went. Tilly Manley walked by with Jack Austen; her husband was back at sea.

At the sound of the bell rich, urbane men, well
upholstered beside fastidious women, turned towards the tiers of seats. The grandstand rose above the crowds, a massive, brooding shell of iron. The polished beasts and their jockeys, rippling with muscle beneath shining satin, were caught by the sun like precious stones, a-glitter in the morning. Binoculars were alerted, programmes consulted, last wagers made. Bottle after bottle of fine champagne was thrust into buckets of ice. At this moment the arrogance of Negishi, green with turf and trees, reflective as fine crystal, was more splendid than the sumptuous feasts beneath chandeliers awaiting the end of the meet. Only the grandstand, to which the crowds moved, remained distant from the scene, looming with the menace of a dark, ill-humoured bird.

They settled at last as the third bell went. Dicky Huckle handed Amy into her seat amongst Mabel's friends. Amy knew them little better than Reggie's friends, but their welcome enfolded her as if they had known her for years. Mabel's group took up two rows of seats. They were young and vivacious; an aura set them apart. The women were a worldly echo of Mabel and moved, unescorted by their partners, in Mabel's élitist world. Yokohama's most eligible bachelors were part of Mabel's crowd. Mabel stood out amongst her friends with more than the flash of her diamonds. People drew instinctively about her as if given substance by her. But for her, Amy thought, they would all have drifted without consequence; it was Mabel who made them a group. Amy watched her slim hand flash a ruby and a diamond.

‘They're away,' Mabel announced. There were
decorous
screams from the women and roars from the men, a sudden straining forward in seats. Enid Desmond and Ada Price clung to each other as Tom Boy came up beside Traveller and then passed Montezuma to take the lead. Dicky Huckle stood up beside Amy and cheered and stamped his feet. Henry Corodale roared so boisterously that in the midst of their excitement people turned in their seats. Soon it was over. Enid Desmond and Ada Price continued to cling together, too weak from emotion to part. It was then that Guy le Ferrier appeared with a tray
of glasses and champagne, carried audaciously out of the bar behind the backs of waiters. These were passed along the rows and filled and finished with appreciation. A disgruntled steward soon appeared, truculent at such a breach of rules. Guy le Ferrier raised an incredulous eyebrow at the man's protest. He swung a silk scarf about his neck. Mabel's friends laughed and called for more; the steward walked sourly away. Old Mr Porter turned to observe them through his monocle, and some Japanese nobles and the Belgian Ambassador inclined their heads in disapproval.

Dicky Huckle, next to Amy, leaned closer than she liked, she moved to speak to Lettice Dunn on her other side. If Reggie came, where would he sit? All the seats were taken. Perhaps Dicky Huckle would vacate his in politeness. But when Reggie at last appeared Dicky sat on in his seat, unmoving. Amy put a hand anxiously to her throat.

‘Oh, Reggie, I tried to save your seat, but even Patrick has lost his place,' Mabel appealed with a smile. A look of annoyance crossed Reggie's face. Mabel's group stared silently; conversation ceased. Reggie said he would take his original seat; Amy might stay with Mabel. He turned to make his way across the crowd. Between the Russells and the Figdors, Mrs Bolithero viewed the course, an empty seat beside her. Had she even gone with Reggie, Amy wondered where she would have sat, her place was already occupied. A rush of fury filled her. Reggie sat down beside Mrs Bolithero, conferring with her over her programme, his head close to the sweep of her hat. He smiled. There was movement beside Amy; Lettice Dunn left her seat and Guy le Ferrier filled it. When at last Amy turned she found Guy le Ferrier watching her with a smile.

‘How could you be so cruel, not even to notice I had sat down beside you?' Guy le Ferrier asked reproachfully. His French accent was appealing; he affected boredom. Some people called him arrogant and indolent. To Amy these qualities appeared his charm.

‘Guy is French Consul in Yokohama, the most eminent
of our group,' Dicky said in introduction. ‘You must be careful. He's a notorious bachelor, unlike myself who am a harmless specimen of our species.'

‘I've just been told by that Mrs Bolithero, from the very obvious wealth of her experience, that no man, however apparently harmless, is
ever
to be trusted,' Amy told Dicky, happy to be outrageous in the manner Mabel's group demanded. Dicky rolled his eyes in horror. Amy pulled a dour face.

‘Of course, if you are not wanting me here, I will go. Sometimes three people are more than a crowd,' said Guy le Ferrier, deepening his tone of reproach.

‘You mean two's company, three's a crowd, I think, Guy,' Dicky grinned.

‘Oh, your English phrases,' Guy slapped his forehead in exasperation.

‘We could just as soon make Mr Huckle the crowd,' Amy said, smiling at Guy. She already understood that this impolite banter, instead of offending, was the accepted vernacular of Mabel's friends.

‘Oh, cruel woman.' Dicky pouted.

‘Ah, you see, without even a duel I have won her,' Guy announced. ‘Are women not unfaithful?'

‘Fickle, Guy, that's the word you want,' Dicky grinned again.

‘It would never do for you to fight over me. I shall divide my attention equally. How about that?' Amy replied. It was exactly what she intended to do.

‘The lady has a heart.' Dicky feigned relief. Amy began to laugh. She saw that Mabel and the others watched her. It was as if her behaviour was before a selection committee. People had already noticed that she and Reggie were divided in the grandstand, a perverse pleasure filled her when she saw this. The glass of
champagne,
drunk down so quickly, made her head feel thick, as if nothing really mattered. Across the grandstand Reggie pointed out horses for Mrs Bolithero.

Mabel gave a gasp as Douglas Roseberry rode onto the course. The group began to cheer; Mabel adjusted her hat. ‘Now Douglas is out with Diplomat, Patrick will be
along soon. Oh dear, what a problem, there really isn't a seat. Amy, shall we send him along to Reggie? Do you think they'll have room for him there?' Mabel giggled and Amy laughed. The men either side of her joined in. Beneath the laughter their thoughts seemed to run
together
in a pleasurable conspiracy. Something she could not put into words seemed understood between them. Beside Reggie and Mrs Bolithero sat Mr Buchanan, the manager of the Mercantile Bank, a gouty, grey-haired figure with whom Reggie leaned forward to talk. Amy was glad to be where she was, far from such decrepitude. She smiled in satisfaction. Fate seemed to have already divided them into appropriate epochs.

‘You've a pony? You will come riding with us?' Guy le Ferrier asked.

‘You do promise, don't you?' Dicky insisted from the other side.

‘I'd love to, but I don't yet have a pony,' Amy was forced to confess.

‘Of course she's going to have a pony,' Mabel said, leaning forward. ‘Patrick wants to sell a little brown hack to make room for a new pony from Shanghai. We'll talk to Reggie. He won't object,' Mabel predicted.

Amy felt confused by the champagne and the sudden rush of events. So many things seemed already decided without her intervention. She was entering at last the secret world of the Bluff Mabel had told her of. Nothing, she knew, would ever be the same after today in
Yokohama.
It was as if in that moment she had shed a skin. And when Douglas Roseberry raced first past the flag she threw up her hands and cheered like Mabel, as loudly as decorum allowed. When the noise died down she turned to Guy le Ferrier.

‘Can't you steal some more of that marvellous
champagne
?' She inclined her head and smiled at him in a way she had not before. From the other side of the grandstand Reggie observed her through his binoculars, pretending to survey the course. She began to laugh again.

Life changed for Amy from that day. It seemed that the
pony, Nikko, acquired from Mabel, was responsible. Reggie had no objection, as Mabel had craftily foreseen; every man of money had a pony in his stable, and Mabel assured him payment could be staggered or deferred. Reggie immediately doubled his debt by buying a pony for himself, as befitted his position. Whenever she could through the spring after Cathy's birth Amy rode out in the fine, warm weather. She rode on the course at Negishi, as did everybody else, but also into the hills beyond flecked with wild flowers, teahouses and weathered roadside shrines.

She returned in happiness to the child, her life textured with the richness of the hours she spent with Cathy. She felt a new completeness. The child's tiny arms entwined her neck, and she screamed with laughter until she hiccoughed at Amy's kisses. From the security of this new love, Amy found she could view with more detachment her relationship with Reggie. His devious wanderings, she realized now, she must accept. She felt calmer. The stimulation of contact with Mabel's friends renewed something vanished in her. With secret regret she took Mabel's advice and learned to trust Cathy to the young amah Rachel, who was adequate to the task. She was sure the child waited, as she did herself, for the hours they spent together. But the adult life beyond this idyll began to claim her more and more.

She rode regularly with Mabel and her friends. It was the habit of Yokohama to ride in the early mornings and late afternoons, when the men were free from their desks. In the early mornings, now, she and Reggie went up to the course together. Besides the exercise, Reggie said, you conveniently met the best people there, beginning the day in the same healthy way. Reggie was unavailable in the afternoons but Henry Corodale, Dicky Huckle and Guy le Ferrier were always ready to ride with Mabel's group. Douglas Roseberry were also there, close to Mabel. Henry Corodale seemed shared by Enid and Ada, Lettice Dunn rode with fat Rowly Bassett. As at the spring races, Amy found herself between Dicky Huckle and Guy le Ferrier. But time soon clarified a different pattern. She
knew Guy wished to ride alone with her, and Dicky would not leave.

It was impossible to know how this was established, what made her feel it so. The knowledge kept her awake at night. She lay beside Reggie filled by the thought that she was desired by another man.
He
desires
me.
The words rose and overflowed in her, as sensuous as those feelings she had almost forgotten, until her pulse began to race. She sat up in bed fearful and confused. She had been grateful to be rid of emotions she had decided were an illness. Why had they returned? She did not want the torment, nor the strange regeneration. And she struggled as never before with those distant warnings of her mother. It was one thing to surrender to such emotions within a conjugal context, another to imagine so vividly the fulfilment of adultery. But even as she bit her nails those words welled up and split through her, stronger than before.
He
desires
me.
She knew now she wanted Guy le Ferrier in the way she had once wanted Reggie. She was ill again with all those terrible feelings that had thrown her into Reggie's life, that had carried her here, so far. Beside her Reggie snored and turned. She ran her own hand down the length of her body. She was not a good woman. She was no better than a whore if thoughts could act like deeds. But such censure of herself, instead of bringing sanity, only increased the feelings in her. A new and strange excitement filled her at the thought that she was wicked. Reggie resettled himself; Amy looked at him apathetically. He left her alone and took his pleasure, she knew, anywhere he could. But now, as he desired other women, she desired another man.

It was not good weather the day they rode out beyond Honmoku. Amy had insisted, sure it would not rain. Dicky had gone to Kobe to play in an inter-port cricket match. She would not have insisted had she known he could come. She would ride alone, beside Guy le Ferrier. There was nothing improper, they were in a crowd. It was as she had willed. She was suddenly apprehensive then and urged her horse forward nearer Mabel, but
found him always there. And Mabel did not want her; she looked at Amy sharply, wishing no distraction from Douglas Roseberry. Ada, Henry, Enid and Rowly Bassett were already a distance ahead. Lettice had not come. Amy was left with Guy, as she had dreaded and hoped. She saw the amusement in his face at her half-hearted attempts to escape him. Now she could almost touch what they had created, she was frightened. Guy did not speak; she knew he was waiting. She was unsure of what to expect, what might be expected of her. It was not too late to turn away. The heroines in novels she had read all turned away at such moments, rejecting lust for purer things that triumphed in the end. Amy Redmore rode on, consumed by her own sensuality.